


The Truest of Blue and a Love Like a Roar

by EarthsickWithoutYou



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, Enemies to Lovers, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-02-08 12:50:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18623632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthsickWithoutYou/pseuds/EarthsickWithoutYou
Summary: He’d tried so hard to fight this, the way Will made him weak with need, made him want to laugh and cry and hold onto him every day forever.  He couldn’t fight anymore.Story begins during 3x06 and presents an alternate chain of events where Will and Hannibal give into their attraction.





	1. Chapter 1

“If I saw you everyday forever, Will, I would remember this time.”

Hannibal smiled, and there was such a pure, almost innocent, sunshiney happiness in that smile. What a twisted, cruel irony, Will thought as those sweet words, layered in the voice he loved and missed so well, proceeded to crumple his heart like a cheap styrofoam cup. 

Up until their eyes met, Will had thought he could waltz back into Hannibal’s life with smug nonchalance, maintaining his cool demeanor despite the peril and confusion that tended to come along with their...sessions. What a joke. One look at his friend and he was back in shark-infested waters, uncertain what would kill him first: the undertow or the teeth.

But he did take a momentary, yet precise pleasure in noticing that Hannibal could not greet this long-awaited encounter with casual smoothness either. 

In Hannibal’s smile, there was everything Will had been waiting for, every cutting, adorable and spine-tingling quality about him, curving up his lips, lighting up his unfairly beautiful caramel eyes. Will thought about what it meant. He pondered every damn implication of Hannibal’s lingering gaze, the faltering flex of his mouth, the deceptively gentle drum of the killer’s fingertips on the bench. Every detail contributed to an equation adding up to some insane collision of heartbreak and joy.

Hannibal didn’t speak again right away, but sat there waiting and watching. He was good at that, and the habit was almost risk-free. With a bitter pang, Will thought he would let Hannibal go right on waiting. 

Will’s eyes trained themselves for a few long moments on the painting before them. Botticelli’s ode to Spring, to pagan lusts and the warm promise of fertility. A painting so full of lush loveliness and above all, zest for life, belief in the chance of renewal...Will cocked his head to one side. It was a hopeful image, but then your eye was caught and trapped by the one glaring inconsistency: Zephyrus, the God of the wind, painted so grey-green as to almost blend into the loving and proliferous woods. That flint-shaded figure was villainously snatching the unsuspecting nymph Chloris, but he wasn’t taking her to ruination. He wanted to transform Chloris into a goddess, the mother of all life, but there, Will found the rub. What an ego on that Zephyrus, to think only he knew what potential lay within Chloris, and that he should take it upon himself to change her, to bring her to her full worth. It was insulting, Will decided. And familiar.

Will looked at the painting, but suspended over Botticelli’s plumply beguiling figures he could still see Hannibal’s face, a gauzy projection of the real problem at hand. It had nothing to do with the painting; it had everything to do with the painting. Yet another haunting dichotomy.

Hannibal’s smile was more than happy. A sadness lingered in his nervous posture, the minuscule tics which only Will could recognize through the way they wreaked havoc on his heart. Then Will considered that perhaps it was only in his presence that Hannibal exhibited these particular symptoms, these telltale signs of vulnerability.

Perhaps Will Graham _was_ Hannibal Lecter’s vulnerability. A claim to fame perhaps, but a terrible way to die. Terrible, but grand. Even Bedelia Du Maurier would be jealous.

Will turned to face his friend, charting the flash of fear in Hannibal’s eyes, the twitch in his jaw and in his full, ever-tempting lips. There it was, the fear of being laid bare before Will once again and losing his treasured, even regal dignity. His mind palace could do nothing to protect him from this fate, not with Will following him through every vaulted chamber, every hallowed hall. If Hannibal Lecter could be in love, he could be defeated. He would lose his insufferably haughty, authoritative wit, his most protected trait and the one which Will found obnoxious and sexy in equal measures. Duality defined and bound them: twinned hearts, inextricable fates.

“Why?” Will asked finally, noticing the real Hannibal, the one desperately trying to scramble back into his person suit. 

_Not so fast._

Will smirked as he felt the claws of adoration digging into his heart, puncturing, pushing deeper and deeper. In the pain, there was that hilarious irony of their conundrum, both of them wanting nothing more than the only person capable of understanding, and therefore destroying them. How could he not stop to savor that uniquely piquant flavor of agony? Especially if it might be his only consolation. 

They both wanted to win, but in order to do so, they would each have to lose the other, and neither could stand that. But Hannibal had yet to admit this weakness, had fought to conceal it until his pride infuriated Will. Why the fuck did Hannibal Lecter, the Chesapeake Ripper, the fearful cannibal, a man who routinely broke almost every ethical law of man and God, have to be so obediently resigned to logic, so determined to get Will out of the way so he wouldn’t have to _feel_?

Hannibal blinked and his smile faded. He swallowed, then licked the roof of his mouth, swirling possible replies around. Apparently, he landed on honesty: “I always wanted to have you here with me, to see this place, this painting. I’ve been here so many times, but always alone. I didn’t want anyone else here.”

“Quite an admission,” Will allowed. “But why? Why me?” He turned more fully in his friend’s direction and said it more clearly, meaning it to sound like a demand, but instead it came out a sharp plea: “ _Tell_ me.”

“You’re my friend,” Hannibal remarked, taken aback by Will’s posture and intensity. The great pretender, Hannibal Lecter, was undeniably both fascinated and frightened. 

Will had to admit these emotions looked incredibly good on Hannibal. Underneath the person suit there was a monster, and underneath the monster was a wild angel, the soft yet rebellious part of Hannibal which he guarded fiercely, even from his own recognition. And Will loved every layer of Hannibal, but in those rare moments when he’d been able to glimpse that inmost core, he had found himself able to finally exhale. It was a rare and immensely rewarding sensation. Will hadn’t tasted real peace in years, but a peace that world-shatteringly satisfying? His life held no precedent for the feeling. Just that tiny glimmer of its possibility was almost too much to take but too scrumptiously forbidden to resist. 

“No,” said Will with a hollow smile, flashing his teeth like fangs. “Not that. Tell me all of it. Now. Give me a piece of your heart, not a piece of your mind.”

Hannibal opened his mouth, perhaps considering a confession. But he stopped himself just in time. His words were a diversion, but he allowed himself the indulgence of lavishing his gaze again all over Will, from the ruffled curls atop his precious head to the cuts and bruises on his face, all the way down that beautiful body and back up again to face Will’s crystal gaze. 

“As chance would have it, I’ve recently been thinking how much I’d like to take a piece of your mind for myself, Will. I think you owe me more than a few, in fact.”

“I was planning to kill you, too,” Will admitted, unoffended. “Every place you hurt me still aches, and I’m sick of the feeling.”

“You mean when I stabbed you?” Hannibal asked, curiosity flickering in his eyes. He was as insatiable as ever to know Will, despite every way his own protective instincts must be screaming at him to let go of the urge. 

“Well, yeah,” Will chuckled, patting his stomach. “It’s sort of a dull, neverending ache. You try to work around it, or work through it, but it’s uh…” he drew a line from his abdomen up to his heart, then tapped his forehead. Finally, he lifted his hands, simulating an explosion. “It’s always there. Throbbing.”

Hannibal stared at him, almost unblinkingly, then drummed his fingers on his knee again, just once. But enough for Will to know he’d made another little chink in Hannibal’s armor.

Will’s smile widened. “You’ve been planning to kill and eat me because you still haven’t forgiven me for turning you in, for exposing you. Still, after everything, you are scrupulously petty.”

“You betrayed me,” Hannibal began, resentment churning in his eyes, but Will interrupted him, leaning forward to speak in a hushed but emphatically angry voice. Hannibal blinked, trying again to compose his features into some semblance of his usual, unflappable control.

“ _I was institutionalized!_ For crimes which _you_ committed, and then when I tried to set things right, prove the truth of the matter, you held it against me--” Will felt the wrath roiling up inside him and had to grip his own knees until his knuckles whitened. It would be so easy to simply beat Hannibal to death, if only this infernal, persistent love would die along with his friend’s body.

Hannibal slammed his sketchbook shut, closing off his secret dreams. “I showed you my true self and invited you on a journey with me, I invited you to share my life, Will. You showed me rather indisputably that you couldn’t have cared less for that invitation. That was the betrayal, and you know it. Perhaps save a little of the blame for yourself, since you’re so generous in spreading it around to everyone else.” Hannibal still spoke calmly, but the firmness in his voice was another victory for Will. The murderer’s feathers were decidedly, and quite attractively ruffled. 

Will chuckled, hearing the snideness in his own voice and not caring. “Alright, fine. I ‘betrayed’ you. But you already killed Abigail, which you knew would hurt me worse than anything else you could think of, _and_ you stabbed me, Dr. Lecter. Was that insufficiently vengeful by your impeccable standards? Shouldn’t it have been over between us after that? What compelled you to finish the job?”

Hannibal set the sketchbook aside and neatly folded his hands in his lap. “Killing Abigail hurt you worse than _almost_ anything, Will. Caring for me will always be the most painful of all your injuries.” He gave a small pout, his fingers briefly fluttering as he shifted in his seat, settling incrementally closer to Will. “Perhaps I merely meant to persuade you of the fact.”

“Consider your point taken, Dr. Lecter,” Will conceded.

“Are we not on a first name basis?” Hannibal inquired more lightly, arching a brow. Will laughed, wholeheartedly this time, and Hannibal gave a brief, resplendent grin.

“I’ll call you ‘Hannibal,’ ‘sweetheart,’ ‘baby,’ or the goddamned Dalai Lama, whatever you want, if you just admit it to me, one time.” Will folded his hands as well, cupping his knee, leveling Hannibal with his most incisive stare.

“I like the sound of some of those,” Hannibal admitted, making Will’s breath hitch, “But what is it exactly that you want me to confess?”

“This whole time, you’ve been trying to show me that I’m just like you, right? We’re the same because we are both killers. And your most fastidious argument, however subtly conveyed through your endlessly inventive and deranged manipulations, Dr. Lecter, has been that I belong in the darkness, that in persisting to repress my murderous impulses, I am denying my true self. And so you have rather egotistically appointed yourself my guide, showing me the way to blossom into the fullness of my potential.” Will felt his heart skitter haphazardly to a stop as he waited for Hannibal to answer. 

“It’s not an act of egotism if my instincts were correct, Will,” Hannibal bragged.

“No, but it’s an act of deceit to pretend that’s all there is going on between us,” Will countered. “Sure, it _was_ that simple when you toyed with others, proving that you could bring out the killer inside them. Miriam, Abigail, Bedelia, who knows how many others, but I’m different. Special. With me, it’s not an easy seduction, it’s a tug of war. I want you to admit that as much as you tempt me to the darkness, I tempt you to the light.”

“You’re wrong, Will.” Hannibal dropped his eyes to the floor, then resigned himself to a more complete evasion and moved to get up. Will shook his head and pulled Hannibal back down; the other man made no move to fight him. 

“Tell me,” Will insisted. “ _Say_ it. I deserve to hear you say it. You leave me bleeding every time, yet as soon as I can walk again, I’m out looking for you, searching your past for your future, dreading and needing to find you in the present. You betrayed me a thousand times worse than I ever betrayed you, and _here I am_ , we both know why.”

“I can’t,” Hannibal muttered, squeezing his eyes shut, “You’re mistaken. The light you think you see in me is a deception. I can never be other than what I am.”

“Alright, but you think about it sometimes, don’t you? It’s not only the capacity for evil in me that has you so obsessed. You also like that I’m good, you like that I try. You think that to defeat me you have to sublimate me to your will, but it doesn’t work like that. We would have to give into each other to ever be free or whole. Hannibal, we need a compromise. I spent my whole life thinking I was alone in this world because I was strange, and I was Other, but you see me.”

Hannibal opened his eyes, enveloping Will in his needy gaze. His hands went to Will’s elbows, trembling. “I do.”

Will grinned, warmed by that simple press of Hannibal’s fingers on his arms, the helpless emotion in his friend’s face. To his own surprise, Will felt no triumph in watching Hannibal unravel, only the gnawing, all-consuming desire to keep making it happen over and over. 

“When you say it like that, it sounds…”

“Like a vow,” Hannibal admitted, and his hands slid up Will’s arms as the other man let out a shaky exhale. 

Will nodded, tears glazing his eyes, and Hannibal touched his face, clasping it as he did that night in the kitchen. Will was unsurprised to find that the gesture still took his breath away. Hannibal’s thumb grazed Will’s stubbled jaw as they both inclined their faces, just that little inviting tilt to say _yes, yes, Oh, God, please yes…_


	2. Chapter 2

“Yes,” Hannibal whispered, his lips hovering just above Will’s. From this angle, he could see every dancing glint of color in Will’s eyes, the exact pattern in which fresh wounds spackled his friend’s face. 

“Yes,” Will murmured, refusing to close his eyes. So he saw Hannibal’s exposed nerves, the hesitation. “What?” His fingers reached up to caress Hannibal’s face, feeling the reddened indentations of the scabs, and Hannibal shuddered, gripping both of Will’s arms hard, as if to discourage the tender touch.

“Yes,” Hannibal repeated gruffly, squeezing one of Will’s biceps as his free hand drove firmly into those gorgeous curls, cupping the back of Will’s head with dominating force. Yet his words were excruciatingly submissive: “I need you.” 

He closed the distance between them, leaning down to lash his tongue across Will’s mouth, eliciting a strangled gasp. Within the next instant, Will’s mouth was turned up to claim his own, the combination of their opened lips feeling exactly like coming home. 

Will’s hands clung to Hannibal’s jacket collar, pulling him closer. Again and again their mouths collided, hot and deep, and when he tasted Will’s tongue, Hannibal was all at once so hard he could barely breathe. So he gave his next breath to Will, roughly gripping Will’s hip to yank him practically onto his lap, Will’s leg suddenly over Hannibal’s, Will’s nails dragging down Hannibal’s back under his shirt. 

Hannibal growled, then sucked Will’s bottom lip and nipped it, his big hand gliding from Will’s hip to ass, groping and squeezing as greedily as a high schooler in a prom night parking lot. Their groins weren’t quite brushing, but he felt Will’s erection bulging through those exquisitely snug trousers, grazing his upper thigh. Their position was absurdly uncoordinated, a grappling, heaving outburst of passion that found them impatiently grinding, holding onto one another for dear life, Hannibal letting out a growl so profound that it must have echoed down Will’s throat.

There was an irritating, loud knock on the wall behind them and the two men jolted back to meet the amused, mildly scolding eyes of a rotund, balding museum guard.

“E 'tutto molto romantico, signori, ma dovrete trovare un posto piu' adatto,” the guard chided, glancing around as if in relief the public display of shameless abandon hadn’t yet drawn a crowd or caused a scandal. 

Hannibal sighed, giving Will a petulant look. “This impertinent interloper says this isn’t the scene for romance. And I suppose you’re going to tell me I can’t kill him,” he complained.

Will, who had turned scarlet and climbed off of Hannibal, touching his lips with a dazed expression, laughed. “We’re sorry, we kind of got caught up in the moment,” he said sheepishly to the guard.

“Non e ' la prima volta che vedo Botticelli fare questo effetto sui nostri clienti,” the guard shrugged, wandering on to continue his rounds.

Will raised his eyebrows and Hannibal explained, “he thinks it is the beauty of the art which has us so aroused.”

“And?” Will smirked, standing and offering Hannibal his hand until they were face to face again.

“What do you think?” he answered huskily. He could still feel the tantalizing friction of Will’s stubble, the heady, demanding kisses having left his lips tingling, the craving to resume them almost more than he could joke his way through.

“It’s not.” Will took both his hands, lacing their fingers together, and Hannibal bent his head until their foreheads touched. “I cared,” Will whispered, “So much. I cherished your invitation, I appreciated you opening up to me, so much.”

“You wanted to run away with me,” Hannibal suggested, his heart seizing with an emotion that felt strong enough to topple him over. Tears pricked his eyes and he blinked in disbelief, watching Will’s expectant face going from blurry to focused as tears escaped to trickle down Hannibal’s cheeks. He’d tried so hard to fight this, the way Will made him weak with need, made him want to laugh and cry and hold onto him every day forever. He couldn’t fight anymore.

“Hannibal,” Will muttered, face nestled in the nook of Hannibal’s neck and shoulder. Their hands tightened around each other and it was Will’s turn to lick, tonguing Hannibal’s neck, adding raspily, “sweetheart.” Hannibal sighed deeply, almost musically, and Will bit down hard, then sucked his neck. 

“ _Oh_ ,” Hannibal gasped, trying and failing to center himself. His gravity wobbled, his feet stumbling, and he hugged Will close for support. “Baby,” Hannibal whispered, feeling his inhibitions falling away, layer by layer, until he was stripped to the bone.

“Where can we go?” Will asked, pressing closer until they both groaned, feeling each other’s desire. 

“I know a few places,” Hannibal murmured, kissing his way across Will’s forehead as if offering a silent apology for what he’d been plotting to do with that cranial saw he kept at a nearby hideout.

“Jack will be nipping at our heels...Chiyoh’s probably hovering around Florence somewhere, too. Mason’s still hunting you.” Will’s eyes were closed, so trusting that Hannibal’s heart squeezed. How could he ever bear to crush that trust again, when Will gave it to him so freely, as if every time they met was a chance for a new start?

“Hmm. How is Chiyoh?” Hannibal asked wryly, making Will chortle.

“She pushed me off a train.”

“So, good,” Hannibal surmised, and they both laughed again, softly. “We’ll get out through the basement, follow me.”

He clasped Will’s hand, his warm, strong fingers encompassing the callouses and cuts on Will’s, and in the formerly inscrutable eyes of his love, Hannibal saw a shimmer that seemed to answer, _Always. Anywhere._

 

Hannibal drove them miles and miles through Italian countryside, the thrum in his heart making him wild with anticipation. He wasn’t used to feeling quite so on edge, but he’d come too far now into the dangers of this intoxicating love to turn away out of pride or fear. Perhaps he would have to learn to breathe through such moments, the dizzying suspense of loving someone and waiting to see how the beloved would choose to act on that love. They could not turn back now, they could only turn to each other.

“What is it?” Hannibal asked, intrigued as he looked away from the road briefly to study Will’s profile.

Will’s smile was hesitant, holding back some morsel of truth. “Oh, nothing,” he stalled, his eyes flicking over Hannibal’s body more overtly than ever before. 

How many times had Will looked at him with physical longing, sensual temptation, and hidden the thoughts behind his adorably bedraggled neuroticism? Hannibal would have given anything to know, and even more to get the chance to return to every one of those moments and experience Will’s gaze with the full comprehension of its meaning. 

“The leather,” Will continued, fingering the collar of Hannibal’s jacket, “It looks good on you.”

“And what else?” Hannibal asked with a smirk, pleased by Will’s somewhat bashful compliment. 

“It’s just...I realized something that maybe I didn’t want to deal with before today,” Will admitted, scratching a probably nonexistent itch on his neck. “I think there’s something I’ve wanted even more than I wanted to kill you.”

“Even more than you wanted to sink a blade deep inside my flesh and watch the life slowly draining from my eyes?” Hannibal inquired with casual amusement. But his grip tightened on the steering wheel, nervous energy speeding through his bloodstream. He felt terrifyingly alive, alert, hanging on Will’s every word. “What could possibly compare?”

“Even more than I wanted to kill you,” Will repeated, “I wanted you to hold my hand.” His voice broke slightly over the admission and it was all Hannibal could do to hold back a torrent of tears. This was new, telling each other the whole truth, and the exposure burned going down, scalding the throat and opening old internal injuries. 

For every time Will had broken his heart, Hannibal held a different injury, and he feared to learn what would happen if the cuts made by Will’s previous rejections, tricks and betrayals all reopened at once. It was unseemly, to put so much power into the hands of another. So why couldn’t he stop?

This time was different.

Hannibal reached out and took Will’s hand, massaging the broken skin over his friend’s knuckles and hearing Will release a luxuriously steadying breath. 

There was nothing either could say to fill the need of that moment. Not yet. 

“It’s all I wanted, too, Will,” Hannibal replied, keeping his eyes on the road. Will stroked the inside of his hand, tracing Hannibal’s lifeline and the road seemed to teeter and sway.

Thank goodness they had very nearly arrived at Hannibal’s cabin. He didn’t think he could hold out much longer without having to pull over and give full vent to his varying and disconcerting profusion of feeling.


	3. Chapter 3

Gravel crunched under the wheels of Hannibal’s car as he pulled into the driveway leading up to the neat and charmingly rustic cabin. Will used his last few moments before they got out of the car to fiddle with the radio, finally tuning into an adult contemporary station playing a melodramatic Italian cover of a Peter Cetera ballad. 

The singer’s syrupy tone and ridiculous high notes made Hannibal flinch, jerking the car to an abrupt halt and then putting it into park as he glared at Will. 

“I couldn’t help myself,” Will laughed, his hand on his heart as he leaned back to get a fuller look at Hannibal’s irritated expression. “I bet you only listen to opera in the car,” he added, gasping for breath between laughs as the sentimental, cheesily florid song went on almost interminably. How could there be so many verses?

“Not true,” Hannibal answered, his mouth twitching ever so slightly as he leaned back in his seat, “I sometimes listen to classical.” He couldn’t maintain his stony facade when Will was so amused, and ducked his head, releasing a self-conscious, low chuckle which made Will laugh even harder.

“That’s it, we’re dancing to this song at our wedding,” Will guffawed, at the same time he realized his over-the-top amusement came from having been sad for so long, and finally feeling he could relax a bit. How could he ever really relax, if he wasn’t with Hannibal? 

Hannibal turned the key, cutting off the singer’s plaintive bleating, and gave Will a pointed look. “For you, Will, I would dance to anything. Even that.”

Too surprised and touched to respond right away, Will got out of the car and followed Hannibal inside, where a new thought made him pause in his blissful mood. He supposed he hadn’t wanted to waste time worrying about this part up until now, but it suddenly seemed rather important.

They had kissed, they’d touched each other in ways he’d imagined countless times but never dreamed possible, and here they were alone, unlikely to be disturbed for quite some time, leaving two distinct possibilities over which he puzzled.

“Do you even know?” Will asked falteringly, leaning back against the door as he closed it, as Hannibal dutifully switched on the living room lamp. Will closed his eyes and let the feeling wash over him again, the shock at his own complete abandon, the succulent envelopment of lust that had him fiery and uneasy. “If you came here to fuck me, or to kill me?”

Hannibal mused on Will’s words, took his sweet time walking through the small, quaint but cozy room, which of course was outfitted with an appropriately small library of doubtless fascinating volumes. Of course the space featured velvety soft chairs and an overall ambiance of woodsy fancifulness. Will would have expected nothing less.

“Oh, I never know that at any given moment,” Hannibal said as breezily as he might have reported the time of day.

After switching on another lamp, he pivoted, so sharply that Will could hardly believe there wasn’t an audible squeal of shoe to floor. 

“Do _you_ know why you are really here?” Hannibal countered smoothly, striding forward as Will fought the urge to slink back. Hannibal took Will’s face into his large and capable hands once again as if it was his property. God, how Will wanted it to be. The wanting hurt. 

“Cat got your tongue, Will? You were ready to let me rot in prison, but now you've mercy to spare. Mercy, or selfishness?”

 _Condescending bastard._

“Don’t,” Will entreated, breaking from Hannibal’s grip so that he could pace around the room. “I'm tired of your games.”

“Maybe so,” Hannibal acknowledged, resentment edging his smug tone. “Perhaps you deserve a break from me, after all. Yet circumstances would currently appear to belie that theory.”

“Maybe I wanted to prove I could move on from you,” Will answered. Ending his pointless circles around the room, he came back to Hannibal and stood close before him, hip grazing hip, truth fighting the comforting safety of lies. "Maybe I thought I needed vengeance to break free." 

“You must have known how it would make me feel, your decision to have a new life, to be reborn so thoroughly you could ignore me,” Hannibal posited, running his hands from just under Will’s arms down his torso, treasuring up the sensation of ghosting his touch over that obscenely unforgettable ribcage, that firm, then soft rush of chest to belly. 

The fragility of Will’s heated flesh, ragged breathing and urgent heartbeat made Hannibal feel he could weep at such perfect beauty. Instead of wanting to claim it by destruction, by defeating Will’s power over him and enacting the ultimate dominance by taking Will’s life, Hannibal felt it again. In the hollow place where his own heart once lived, an urgent throb reverberating Will’s name. The echo turned him inside out until his feelings could be seen, a special kind of nakedness which he’d avoided for his whole life up until meeting this man, this damaged, brilliant, irresistible man. And instead of enacting that final victory, all he wanted to do was protect Will. 

Hannibal thought this over carefully, watching every fluctuation of confused, struggling feeling in Will’s unguarded face. Then he added, “I was heartbroken at your choice. Jealous to think how you could so easily move on, probably into the arms of another, someone to stabilize you, some...pure relationship to keep you safe from our danger.”

“You don't feel the least bit hypocritical saying that,” Will fumed, doing something he’d wanted to do for so long that taking the action almost destroyed him. Daringly, he caressed that smooth, gorgeous lock of hair back from Hannibal’s forehead and doing this felt so good he almost fucking died. "Yet you had a new life too, in Florence. New name, new...partner. How did it feel, being free from me?" 

Far from immune to the intimacy of that simple touch, still Hannibal pursed his lips, eyes flashing with resentment that Will kept putting him in this embarrassing position of confessing. But Will could never resist the chance to challenge him. It was part of his unique appeal, being the only one who got to do that repeatedly and live. 

“Please,” Will begged, and Hannibal caved just like he always did. Would enough ever be enough for Will, he wondered.

“I hated it,” Hannibal bit out, an admission too sacred for any church to allow. “I was worse than bored; I was in despair. Are you happy now? Is that what you needed of me, Will?”

Will chose to meet this rather pretentious question with scornful lust, his hands pressing to Hannibal’s chest, then firmly roving back over his shoulders, touching Hannibal’s powerful back and upper arms in wonderment, addicted to the feeling of feeling his soulmate. 

“Yes. I don’t think it’s too much to ask, all things considered. But rest assured, that isn’t all I need of you.” Will stared up at him, confrontational as an avenging angel and devoted as a puppy, and Hannibal had to fight to maintain the intense eye contact. It occurred to him how ridiculous he was, after he’d called Will out for the same problem in their very first conversation. He hated feeling ridiculous, hated that for Will he could be so. All too easily.

Hannibal’s hands fisted Will’s shirt by his side, then tugged it loose from the waistband of his trousers, shifting closer until they were firmly pressed body to body. There was an easy way to let out some of the tension, something that had always soothed him. Closing his eyes, Hannibal inhaled through his nose as Will watched him in fascination.

“I still wear that awful, cheap aftershave,” Will murmured, “Just to spite you. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Hannibal smiled, slipping his fingers under Will’s shirt to traipse down his spine. He enjoyed watching Will shiver and feeling his arousal grow, rubbing tantalizingly against his own. “You must know by now that it’s my favorite smell. I don’t ever want you to change it.”

“Really?” Will was incredulous, experimenting more with touching Hannibal, unbuttoning his shirt with slow, immense curiosity. 

“I love you, Will,” Hannibal said, and as Will’s lips parted in amazement, Hannibal kissed him, his mouth soft and sure, both men working at the buttons of each other’s shirts. 

Will’s heartbeat slammed against Hannibal’s palm when he rested it there, thinking that fierce animal pounding was something deeply kindred, a perfect match to his own craving. Will’s frantic need was the ideal companion to his own quietly seething ache. How could he ever kill Will, when to do so would be to cut out a piece of himself he could never get back, could not possibly live without? That had been his folly, thinking he could go on like that, not seeing Will, not hearing his voice, smelling him and stealing those forbidden touches that opened up their wounds so they could breathe. Of course there could be nothing of worth for Hannibal in a world without those things. It would be suicide.

At his profession of love, Will nodded, then yanked Hannibal’s belt off and threw it to the floor, where it landed softly on their crumpled shirts. “Where is your bedroom?” Will asked, wide-eyed and nearly panting. 

Hannibal, clad only in his black trousers, led the way through the dim space to the bedroom, where a king-sized bed with a lavish duvet lay in wait among yet more shadows. Will’s feet felt leaden, trudging along in an ill-fated attempt to keep control of his raging heart and libido, the panic in his brain telling him to stop, take advantage of Hannibal’s guard being down to get the upper hand, bring him to justice.

But then he reached the doorframe, where Hannibal waited, Will’s same Dr. Lecter with his deep-set eyes full of silent danger, that sweep of hair prettily kissing his brow, his graceful, yet rugged body offered up as fully to Will’s appraisal as Will’s mind had ever been open to him. There was no hint of another betrayal or parting between them in Hannibal’s serious smile, his thickly muttered, delayed response, “Ours, now.”

“Ours,” Will repeated as if in a daze, but this was no hypnotic trance and he acted fully under the force of his own unruly appetite. 

Kneeling before his friend, he unzipped Hannibal’s trousers and tugged them down, then pressed fervent kisses all over Hannibal’s swollen cock over his underwear.

Hannibal hissed, one hand grabbing the wall as the other landed roughly in Will’s hair, fingers splayed and tightening.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Will mumbled up at him, blushing. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Show me what you want to do, then,” Hannibal asked, and within the next breath, Will had loosed his engorged member, gasping as it sprung free from the tight confines of his underpants. 

“I may not have been with a man before,” Will remarked, licking his fingers, then clasping Hannibal’s cock and jerking it with slow, long strokes. “But I _may_ have watched a rather copious amount of pornography.” Then he leaned in and took Hannibal’s erection into his eager mouth, taking the full, thick length of it until he had to teach himself not to fear choking. He went on, sucking several times, supplementing the warm, wet pressure of his lips with careful, firm strokes of his hand until Hannibal gave a hoarse cry, tugging on Will’s hair, slamming his free hand against the wall.

Will hummed, the vibrations causing Hannibal’s eyes to roll up as he gave a low moan. With a delicate lick, Will savored the salty hint of precum at the tip of his friend’s cock, then looked up with such a shamelessly teasing smile that it caused Hannibal to snap.

“Come here,” Hannibal demanded severely, and Will stood with that smirk still resplendent on his glistening lips, just begging Hannibal to wipe the smirk away and replace it with shocked groans.

Hannibal took Will roughly by the shoulders and practically threw him on the bed so that he lay on his belly without a word of complaint in response, only a naughty glance back at his love.

Reaching around Will’s waist, Hannibal unfastened his trousers and yanked them off, along with his boxer briefs, and then it was impossible not to sigh in disbelief. 

Will shivered as Hannibal hovered over him, pressing hot, insistent kisses, bites and licks into his neck, then kissing his way down Will’s smooth, warm back. He didn’t know what was more delicious, the moans falling from Will’s mischievous lips, or the feeling and taste of that luscious expanse of skin beneath his own adoring mouth, the familiar and beloved scent of that woodsy aftershave. The combination of all of these elements at once had him dizzily undone.

“So beautiful,” Hannibal marveled, caressing Will’s ass and lowering his lips to kiss and lick lingeringly, teasingly between the cheeks. 

Will cried out as if in surprise at the unaccustomed sensation, gripping the pillow and looking back at Hannibal with an unspoken plea.

“How could you have ever believed you could move on, one day belong to somebody else?” Hannibal asked, sensuality and anger mingled inextricably in his tone. 

“I never really believed I could,” Will admitted, shifting in some doomed manifestation of shyness. Hannibal planted a hand on his low back, to soothe his friend’s quivering as much as to reassert control. 

“But you let me believe it,” Hannibal continued, roving his free hand in slow circles over Will’s behind. He paused, considering the appropriate reprimand, and then administered one quick, sharp spank.

“Yes!” Will cried out, and Hannibal smiled, ecstasy blossoming anew in his previously nonexistent heart. 

“Yes, what, Will? Yes, you let me believe you could stop caring for me, or yes, you enjoyed me punishing you for the deception?”

With that same saucy grin that never failed to set Hannibal’s skin burning, Will answered around a softly indecent laugh. “Yes.”

Hannibal spanked Will briskly three more times, then leaned over his body, letting his hard-on drift ever so slightly between Will’s now pinkened cheeks. 

“God,” Will gasped, reaching around to grab onto Hannibal’s thighs, sloppily urging him to go further. “Oh, God. Please, please…”

“Are you sorry?” Hannibal murmured devilishly in Will’s ear before licking the lobe, his hot breath serving to make Will squeeze his eyes shut as if the desire elicited was unbearable. Lovingly, Hannibal thrust a hand through Will’s hair, then pulled it slightly to gain his fuller attention. “I asked you a question.”

“If I say I’m sorry, are you going to stop punishing me?” Will asked breathlessly. 

Hannibal shook his head and chortled, now stroking Will’s hair, pressing a kiss to his brow. “Not immediately.”

He positioned himself to straddle Will’s behind again, and after another teasing graze of his cock between those perfect cheeks, another gentle caress of them, he pulled back for a harder spank than ever.

“Fuck!” Will cried, trying to calm his ecstasy long enough to find regret for the past, “I’m...I’m sorry. Really. I wanted to hurt you because you hurt me, and I knew exactly how it would make you feel...I didn’t acknowledge it to myself consciously until now, but I feel...it was selfish and destructive.”

“Very good,” Hannibal praised, gliding his erection up and down, barely pressing the tip to Will’s hole before pulling away and spanking. Then he leaned in again and kissed Will’s ass more thoroughly, circling his tongue around Will’s hole and plunging in and out with a slowly building rhythm that had Will gasping his name. In turn, Hannibal found he was so hard it almost hurt, all the blood in his body seeming to rush to thicken his urgent need for Will, Will, only Will, _always_ Will.

“Hannibal,” Will said raggedly, almost as if he was reasoning with him. “Please fuck me.”

Hannibal smacked his ass again, in love with that perfect spring of pert flesh under his power, high on the sounds of Will’s groans.

But the time had passed for foreplay. 

“I want you to look at me for this,” Hannibal murmured, guiding Will with the utmost loving care onto his back, cupping his face and kissing him, warm and deep. 

Will clung to Hannibal, so softly exquisite and needy. Could this be a dream?

“I love you,” Hannibal sighed between kisses, just in case it was, just in case this was the last chance to say it before the illusion shattered and left him lying among the shards, back in the cold darkness of lonely despair. Will kissed him back voraciously, and Hannibal felt himself spiraling, letting his emotions roam where they pleased.

“I love you,” Hannibal repeated over and over, grinding against Will, gripping his ass and kissing his beautiful mouth, unable to possibly have his fill of this happiness. Will moaned, holding onto Hannibal, calloused palms lightly scraping his back, and then they both knew it was time. 

“Do you want me to show you how much?” Hannibal asked, and Will nodded, staring into Hannibal’s face, running his fingers over his friend’s kiss-swollen lips. 

Smiling, Hannibal reached over to the bedside table and opened the drawer, pulling out a tube of lubricant as if its presence was the most expected thing in the world. Will watched him, overcome in the suspense of wondering how every individual sensation of this experience would feel, would fill him and make him whole. 

“Just relax,” Hannibal soothed, “I have you now.” He applied the lubricant generously to Will’s ass, and Will found that this did not feel cold as he expected, but rather warm and inviting, combining with the stroking and teasing of Hannibal’s fingers to ensure he relaxed as much as was possible. 

Hannibal slipped his middle finger inside Will with a firm but gradual pressure, prompting Will to grab Hannibal’s free forearm, squeezing it for comfort’s sake as the combined thrill and nervousness of the unknown made it hard to breathe. 

“I have never wanted anyone or anything at all as much as I want you,” Hannibal confessed, pumping his finger slightly deeper as Will sighed, eyelashes fluttering, pleasure etching his face. Hannibal showed him what more felt like, two then three fingers pumping deep, twisting and opening him, only for Will to reveal new shades of perfection, taking every inch with ardent pleas for more, for all that Hannibal had to give.

“Show me,” Will entreated, and Hannibal watched him carefully as he withdrew his fingers, then gradually began to sink his achingly hard erection inside Will. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Will cried sharply, gazing up at Hannibal as his friend pushed just an inch or so deeper inside him. 

Hannibal could barely breathe; it felt so unbelievable to be one with Will, like a physical completion of everything they’d felt since the first time their eyes met. 

He still remembered that day, in Jack’s office, Will’s rumpled Professor persona and the acerbic tone in his voice as he quipped, finally looking directly at Hannibal, _“Is that a burst vein_?"

_Good God. My heart feels like it's exploding, and I didn’t know I had one. I did not want to know this was possible._

Hannibal remembered with perfect clarity the way it felt, his usual, distant but genius, self-congratulatory monologuing making an unexpected segue to sincere fascination with any tiny detail of Will which he could uncover. But there was nothing to stand between them now, no chance to hide behind moral disagreements or the pain they’d caused each other. Only _this._

“Does it hurt?” Hannibal asked hoarsely, before going any further. 

“Yes,” Will answered as something primal blazed in his eyes, “Don’t stop.”

With one hand planted aggressively on Will’s ass, Hannibal used the other to hold down Will’s wrist, devouring his lips with roughly possessive kisses. As their tongues tangled, Hannibal slid further inside him, groaning into Will’s mouth as pleasure radiated from his urgent member all the way through his body, every nerve singing with the erotic joy of their union. 

“Hannibal,” Will whispered, biting his lover’s bottom lip, briefly daring to shift his wrist, as if to evade Hannibal’s firm grasp, freeing himself to pursue other forms of mischief. “Sweetheart.”

Will's voice was flesh pulled back from bone, the most honest profession of raw, endless longing that Hannibal had ever heard. He slammed Will’s wrist back into the bed, pushing his cock in to the hilt at last, both of them moaning, loud and relentless as their love. 

“Baby,” Hannibal sighed, forehead pressed to Will’s as he slightly increased the tempo, driving in and out of his lover as the feeling of fucking him in earnest caused his spine to tingle, perspiration gathering all over his body. 

Will reached up to run his fingertips wonderingly over Hannibal’s chiseled cheekbones, his shaking legs hitched up around Hannibal’s hips as he struggled to maintain some control over his body. The sense of being completely blown away and unable to do anything but tremble and ache made Will blink against blackness and stars until he regained the ability to focus. He trained his heavy-lidded eyes on Hannibal’s face contorted in ecstasy, then slid his fingers down his sculpted chest, feeling the dampened hairs and the thundering of Hannibal’s heart.

His hypersensitive ears tuned into the splendid sound of Hannibal’s voice devolving into stormy, uncontrollable cries, and from somewhere further away he heard himself begging for more and more, harder. Will felt his own hot and urgent orgasm getting closer and closer the more vigorously Hannibal fucked him. There was a quickening in his blood, a pleasure so deep he could only ride it out, grabbing onto Hannibal’s back to urge him on. Will smiled triumphantly as Hannibal’s back arched, his cock twitching, then spilling hot seed deep inside Will, a harsh grunt accentuating the total surrender as he spasmed, waves of euphoria engulfing him. Will leaned up to bite his neck.

“ _Fuck!_ ,” Hannibal gasped, fingers digging into Will’s ass cheek, “Will.” A statement, yet a request. Will heard it and understood as he stroked Hannibal’s back, then rubbed his fingers adoringly over his friend’s firm behind. 

“Let me have this with you forever,” Hannibal begged, slowly pulling out of Will, who gave a jerky nod.

“I want you,” Hannibal continued, taking hold of Will’s cock and easily beckoning him all the way to his burgeoning orgasm, “To be mine, Will.” He slid his knowing hand up and down Will’s pulsating cock, only a few times before Will came so hard he cried, almost screaming Hannibal’s name, his nails digging into his lover’s thigh, cum spurting all over Hannibal’s eager fingers.

Hannibal licked his fingers, then grinned, and it seemed like an absurd notion for such a darkly passionate moment, but Will couldn’t help thinking for the thousandth time that his friend had the most preciously elusive, endearing smile he’d ever seen. 

Although he must be as exhausted as Will, whose heavy limbs were tingling as he fought to take breath after shaky breath, Hannibal felt compelled to get up, just long enough to go into the adjoining bathroom, coming back with a warm, wet cloth which he used to lovingly dab the sticky white residue from Will’s abdomen. He set the cloth aside and flopped down on his back, drawing Will into his embrace with a movement so natural and inevitable that they both gave tender sighs, clinging together. Will nestled his face into Hannibal’s chest, letting a few minutes elapse before he spoke into that eloquent, comforting silence, the words seeming to echo off the very air around them.

“I...I love you, too,” Will got out brokenly. He leaned back slightly to look at Hannibal’s amazed expression as he added, “You’re all I ever think about.”

Hannibal’s lovely, deadly eyes narrowed slightly, his haughty smile returning, an insubstantial attempt to buffer the pain which Will’s words occasioned him. “But you tried to take my freedom. You had a choice between giving into me and ascending to some lofty, artificial moral high ground to escape these feelings, and you turned away from me...told them all about my secrets.”

“Will you stop?” Will asked, his frustration quietly accusatory. Gently, he caressed Hannibal’s face, breathing sharply in and out as he thought how to possibly explain this. “I didn’t _want_ to love you anymore. What the hell does that actually have to do with loving you?”

Will’s thumb drifted over Hannibal’s lips as the latter took it into his mouth, licking, sucking and nipping that sensitive skin until Will laughed, startled at how easily he could be hard again when Hannibal was involved. 

“I thought it was obvious,” Will offered, feeling along the tops of Hannibal’s teeth, from the smooth to the jagged. For his presumptuous remark, he was rewarded with a swift bite, blood oozing from his fingertip as Hannibal lapped it rather smugly.  


Will groaned and Hannibal chuckled, removing Will’s thumb from his mouth and guiding his hand down to his rigid cock. 

“Now, _that_ is obvious,” Will grinned, “But first do you think we should discuss terms? There’s a few bothersome questions still swirling in my mind.” 

Sighing in resignation, Hannibal squeezed Will’s hand, then let it go, burying Will in a bear hug, wrapping his friend up in the smell of his spicy, refined cologne and the rough heat of his chest. 

“What kinds of questions, Will?” Hannibal asked rather impatiently, nuzzling his nose in Will’s hair. 

Will was unspeakably aroused by Hannibal’s manly vigor, to the point that he had to remind himself there were things he needed to know before they made love again. But God, thinking was a challenge when they were tangled up like this.

“Mind if I start with something petty? I learned from the best when it comes to that particular habit.” Will laughed as Hannibal huffed in annoyance. “The lubricant...why did you have that here? Is it because you and Bedelia…”

Hannibal laughed in total surprise and pulled back from Will just enough to satisfy himself that his love’s face had gone red. “So, you’ve been jealous, too,” he observed, so completely pleased with the fact that Will rolled his eyes.

“Obviously. What was I supposed to think, the two of you living together, the intimate way she knows your mind, and the way you let her continue to hone that understanding. It’s not a gift you offer to many.” Will frowned, trying not to picture Hannibal and Bedelia following through on that intimacy.

“I let her think she understands,” Hannibal allowed. “Honestly, I brought her along because she was a loose end, and I thought I would eat her when the mood struck. But over time, I found that it was rather nice, having someone to talk to about you.” 

Will propped his head up on one hand, elbow planted into the bed as he met Hannibal’s teasing gaze with astonishment. “Really?”

“All I ever did was talk about you. She tried to seduce or distract me, she let her annoyance with the fact go, but obviously letting me verbalize my obsession with one Will Graham of the FBI was the only thing keeping dear Bedelia alive. She was in no position to argue.”  


Will laughed, still struggling through the ghost of his envy that Bedelia got to spend all that time with Hannibal, got to live with him as a spouse and share the life which Will had to force himself to push away. Never again.

“You know what I always wondered?” Will asked, and Hannibal lifted his brows, intrigued, his soothing fingers tracing the shape of Will’s ear. “Were you as jealous as I was about Alana?”

Hannibal snickered. “Yes. When you came to me the day you kissed her, I wanted to murder her on the spot. I wanted to break every single knick-nack in my library and tear the pages from every book, stomp the broken porcelain and glass and wood into bloody shards and splinters.”

“So, you were jealous,” Will summed up, eyes sparkling in amused satisfaction. “Even that early in our relationship.”

“I was dying to touch and hold you, to have you all to myself.” Hannibal shrugged. “I thought _I_ was obvious. What about you, during my little affair with Dr. Bloom? How did it make you feel?”

“Oh, wretched, absolutely miserable,” Will acknowledged, “But the thing about it that’s kind of hilarious is...anyone observing the situation from the outside would clearly have assumed we were both jealous over Alana, not each other. After all, she was the one we both claimed to want, but…”

“I don’t think Alana made out too badly from the entire triangular scenario,” Hannibal observed. He twisted one of Will’s curls around his finger, then released it to watch it lightly bounce. “Though I’ve still a score to settle with her.”

“Now see, there you go again,” Will chided, doing his best stern face until Hannibal had to exert considerable strength not to dissolve into laughter. 

“I’m serious,” Will added, pointing at Hannibal’s chest and trying not to get distracted by his friend’s gorgeous physique. Hannibal put his hand around Will’s, caressing him slowly.

“I know that. Please, do go on,” he prompted generously.

“You’re not going to kill Alana,” Will commanded, and now it was Hannibal’s turn to roll his eyes with a disapproving sigh. “Or Jack. And...I guess… _probably_ not Bedelia, Chilton, or Freddie Lounds.”

“Now you’re just being unreasonable,” Hannibal complained, pouting, “Whyever not?”

“I’m being _fair._ Alana did nothing to deserve you killing her; you’re just holding onto some old, nonexistent grudge over the fact that she didn’t bow to your insistence she leave that night in your ever-perilous kitchen. As for the others, they’ve earned your respect with their persistent ability to survive you. I think they’ve therefore won the right to live. Now, if I change my mind about any of them, I’ll let you know.” Will spoke with calm dignity, though amusement at that last part danced across both of their faces.

“Who put you in charge?” Hannibal inquired, and Will shook his head, allowing himself the languorous enjoyment of pushing that now sweaty piece of hair back from Hannibal’s brow several times, then raking his fingers back over Hannibal’s head, relishing the wet smoothness of those debonair grey-streaked locks, and the fact that he really _could_ just touch Hannibal, anytime he pleased.

“Don’t you think you’ve already displayed enough authority over me today?” Will asked. “You’re kind of bossy in bed, you know.”

Hannibal responded with a smile so gentle it made Will’s heart squeeze. “And you were rather pleased with that, as I vividly recall.”

“Just promise to remind me how pleasing it is, anytime you want,” Will replied, his smile fading slightly as he asked, suspended in reverence, “Did you know it would be like that? That you would be the one to…”

“Shy boy. Yes, I always knew it.” Hannibal kissed Will’s mouth, then pulled the blankets up around them, having noticed that Will’s back felt a bit cold by now. “I kept the lubricant here because of this mad fantasy I could never quite get out of my head. That you would come to me and finally give in.”

“Ah,” Will blushed, “I see.”

“I can tell that makes you as happy as it makes me. You must know you represent the first time I have ever wanted something desperately enough to concede defeat.”

“I know you don’t usually let people in,” Will answered, enamored with the way Hannibal’s eyes crinkled, lips curving with a slight wobble as sadness crept into their joy, the memory of their time apart flickering across both of their minds.

“It’s hard to know quite what to do with myself now that my walls have come down. But I do have a few ideas.” His smile deepened as Will’s breath quickened in anticipation. “You could always see right through me, couldn’t you? Even when everyone else was fooled, even when you _told_ them outright who and what I really was, and they dismissed you as a raving lunatic, you _knew_ me.”

“Well, that’s been pretty mutual, hasn’t it?” Will posited. “You always understood how my mind works, and that particular topic has been known to baffle.”

“Clever,” Hannibal praised, ruffling Will’s hair. “Such a clever boy, Will. And so very brave. Show me how brave you can be.”

“How?” Will asked rather teasingly, since the intention in Hannibal’s powerful erotic gaze left no room for doubt.

Hannibal nodded for Will to move as he commanded. “Hands and knees, Will. Now.”


	4. Chapter 4

Will padded into the kitchen barefoot, yawning and stretching. He’d fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep after another lovemaking session with Hannibal, and damn, it had been _years_ since he’d slept so well. So although it was six am, it was easy to get up and follow the soft noises emanating from the kitchen.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Will grinned as Hannibal looked up from the eggs he was cracking into a large, red ceramic bowl. He wore a dazed expression that said he just couldn’t quite believe this was real. Will knew the feeling. 

Hannibal’s eyes drifted luxuriously from Will’s sleep-mussed hair and bright eyes to his well-rested smile, then down his bare chest and stomach to the borrowed pair of Hannibal’s own striped pajama pants resting low on Will’s narrower hips.

“Well,” he said rather reductively, obviously trying and failing to conceal the intensity of his delight. His smile was cautious and his blinks were coming slow, searching for a steady grip of rock when he’d long since plummeted from the cliff. “Good morning, baby.” 

Hannibal went to rinse his fingers off in the sink, drying his hands on a towel with unnecessary attentiveness, giving himself a bit more time to prepare to face Will again. But Will didn’t have any patience for such tactics.  


Will came up behind Hannibal and wrapped his arms around him, pressing his face to Hannibal’s back, massaging his fingers over his friend’s chest and stomach. He must have been up for a while, Will guessed, as his hair was damp and he smelled of fresh soap, all sandalwood and spice. 

Hannibal stood there for a moment briefly stunned, hands limp by his side. Then Will sighed contentedly and Hannibal gave into the embrace, bringing his hands up to cover Will’s.

“Did you ever think we’d really get here?” Will asked, his voice slightly muffled against Hannibal’s bathrobe.

“I hoped,” he admitted, “But I was never sure. One of your charms, Will, is that you always keep me guessing.”

“Even now?” Will inquired, stepping back enough to gently take Hannibal by the shoulders, needing to look into his eyes.

“Perhaps most of all now. You should shower; you smell of sweat, blood and sex. I’ll make us some coffee and break-”

“Yes, of course you’re making breakfast,” Will chuckled, “What else would you be doing; you’re _you._ ” He gestured at Hannibal adoringly, feasting his eyes on the sight of his lover in that same grey cashmere robe he’d worn back home. Or probably a duplicate...did Hannibal just buy multiples of favorite items? It stood to reason. Naturally, Hannibal had to have a wardrobe and a kitchen stocked with all basic necessities at his every hideout. Maybe that would have been a useful way to track the Chesapeake Ripper in days of old, and the thought made his smile widen. 

“Also...since when do you mind me smelling of blood, sweat and sex? I would have thought that would work as an aphrodisiac on you.” Will kept his tone light as he followed Hannibal to the fridge.

Hannibal set the container of coffee beans down on the counter, brows knitted in thought before he turned to face Will again, holding him by the upper arms, his voice husky and conflicted. “Your very existence is an aphrodisiac to me, Will. And now I’ve held you in my arms all night. I have never done that before with anyone, have you?”

“Slept that closely with someone, that long? No, never. I was always too restless, like this negative adrenaline wouldn’t let me be...joined to anyone like that. And I was afraid of my dreams until I started living them.” 

“Upon reflection, last night has left me wondering if what we have is built to last, or merely a house of cards. Remember, Will, you will always want to feel such sweet and easy peace. I doubt whether you can sustain such a feeling around me.”

“You mean the great Hannibal Lecter is feeling nervous?” Will teased, but Hannibal couldn’t summon even the smallest of smiles. “Maybe you just need to have a little more faith in us.”

“Perhaps you’re right. Then let us delve into the topic which we so fastidiously avoided looking at closely last night: your terms.” 

Hannibal let go of Will and began the process of expertly crafting the perfect coffee for them to enjoy, and Will noticed once again how his lover took comfort in the rituals of cooking, even of caring for guests. As long as he was doing something productive and helpful with his hands, he could keep calm despite whatever storms raged within his soul.

Will braced his hands on the counter and grinned, “You’re so damn cute in the kitchen. I could just watch you cook all day.”

If the words made Hannibal’s shockingly feeble heart race, flooding him with that same terrifying happiness that made moments like these deafening and divine, he showed no sign of it. He merely proceeded to grind the coffee beans, waiting for the buzzing noise to stop before he answered, “It’s childish of you to keep changing the subject. Terms, Will.”

“Someone’s bitchy when they’re feeling exposed,” Will noted. “I was thinking...just don’t kill so many people.” He took a strawberry slice from a bowl of fresh fruit beside him and popped it into his mouth.

Hannibal lightly slapped Will’s hand as he reached for another berry. “It’s not time to eat yet; there is the presentation to consider. Wait until it is plated.”

“I guess I’m just a barbarian,” Will smirked, and Hannibal did laugh then, softly, following up with a tender kiss.

“You are _my_ barbarian, which is the reason you get away with such antics.” He took out two glass mugs and began decanting the coffee into each one. “You’ll need to make the rules far more specific.”

“Only kill people who genuinely deserve to die, who are real, confirmable assholes….although it just struck me as kind of weird to use that term pejoratively when so recently you and I were...you know…” Cheeks reddening, he took the mug from Hannibal with a grateful nod.

“Indeed, but all words live many lives depending on their contexts. Take love or even hate. My hatred for you is nothing like the way I hate others. It’s born of resentment at the way you evoke my honesty and the fear you’ll abuse the privilege. There’s no way to wash the love off of that hate, despite all my efforts.”

“Maybe stop trying so hard, sweetheart,” Will said warmly. “I’ve kind of given up on the hate component of my love for you, and it’s not so bad on the other side. Scary, yes, but exceedingly fun. Now, do you want to hear the rest of my plan or what?”

“Please,” Hannibal prompted.

“Okay, so you stop going after innocents with strategic value or to cover your tracks, prove a point or resolve a grudge, unless said grudge is directly related to genuine asshole behavior on the part of the intended victim,” Will finished with prideful aplomb, leaning back against the sink as Hannibal observed him thoughtfully.

“It’s not hard to find genuine assholes in this world, Will, so I’m sure I could keep my dance card full even under those somewhat ludicrous restrictions. But I do have to add my own term to this arrangement you’re proposing.” Hannibal took down a skillet from the rack above the sink, his body lightly grazing Will’s until Will exhaled sharply, his morning erection returning in full force.

With a knowing smile, Hannibal went to the stove and began making omelettes, adding precise amounts of fresh mushrooms, onions, peppers, goat cheese, and a few fancy herbs which Will couldn’t identify from little pre-portioned containers he’d left on the counter. With passing interest, Will guessed his friend had left the meal vegetarian since they were currently negotiating what would be on the menu in future. Hannibal had the nerve to give Will a very pointed look, letting his eyes flit to his lover’s obvious erection, smug satisfaction all over his gorgeous face.

“Ahem,” Will segued awkwardly, trying to keep his mind on the designated topic despite wanting to jump Hannibal’s bones with profound vigor. “What is your term?”

Swishing the eggs around the steaming skillet, Hannibal said smoothly, “I want to know the extent of your involvement in the killing, Will. Have you accepted yourself fully by now? If you think you can shed a little light into my bleak and haunted inner self, are you prepared to acknowledge the pitch blackness within you, and will you indulge it?”

“Am I ready to begin actually living instead of hiding, in other words. As a matter of fact, I think you will find that your own term is already included in the proposal I was mentioning.” Will plucked a blackberry and then a blueberry from the bowl, chewing contemplatively before adding, “I was going to stipulate that you are allowed to kill any confirmed asshole, but only if I get to help.”

“Are you suggesting we become vigilantes, Will?” Hannibal inquired, setting the table with his usual care, putting all his excess anxiety into the perfect arrangement of cloth napkins, silverware and plates, the eloquent impressionist bloom of the fluffy omelettes and symmetrical triangles of toast with fresh creamery butter.

Eschewing the question momentarily, Will asked, “When was the last time you were here? You have dairy products in the fridge that haven’t gone sour, and there’s not a speck of dust on any of the furniture. Was this your little respite from nuptial bliss with Bedelia, Hannibal?” With an impish smile, he bit into his toast, then gestured around with it, pointing to the immaculate environs. 

Hannibal’s lip rippled in a tiny sneer as he sat down across from Will, whose smile only grew as he added, “Was this your man cave?”

“It’s the place I go when I’m in Florence and I need to conceal any urgently conspicuous evidence of my proclivities. Now, however, it’s much more than that.” 

“Now it seems almost like our honeymoon cottage,” Will answered, rubbing his feet together under the table as his toes were starting to feel rather cold. 

Hannibal’s expression remained expertly unfazed, but he drew his own feet from his warmly snug slippers, transferring his body heat to Will as he rubbed his feet over his lover’s. The casual extent of their physical contact was still new, and Will’s fork wobbled ever so slightly in his grip.

Hannibal spread his napkin in his lap, then lifted a forkful of eggs, his movements as usual falling into identical rhythm with Will. They ate quietly for several minutes, mutually basking in each others’ presence, before Hannibal spoke again.

“As I was asking before your little tangent, do you want us to simply flit around the world, hunting, killing and eating deplorable specimens of humanity?” 

“It does sound like a good time, but we don’t have to stay constantly on the move, do we? I was thinking we could choose sort of a...home base?”

“A home for you and me. That was everything I wanted, Will. Yet you know our enemies, however much you like to call some of them friends, will never let us enjoy that paradise. They would say we don’t deserve it. Their presumption in believing they have the right to judge us is quite enough to make me feel they should be wiped from the face of the earth.” 

“Look, we’ll deal with them, okay?” Will answered, standing to clear their plates. “Don’t be so sullen.”

Hannibal grabbed his elbow and Will backtracked, meeting his apprehensive gaze. “You think you have the answer to everything, but life does not allow for such sublime organization.”

“I don’t think I have the answers, Hannibal. I just have hope.” His smile was a beautiful apparition, and Hannibal’s eyes were desperate, fingers tightening on Will’s arm.

“Come on,” Will said calmly in response to Hannibal’s unspoken anxiety. He pulled away from Hannibal’s grip only to put the dishes in the sink, and then set off down the hall to the bathroom.  
“Are you coming or what?”

Hannibal looked around the empty room and thought how horrible it would be to go back to living here, or anywhere, as he used to, stricken with that solitude, thinly anesthetized by ego and cruelty. He crumpled the napkin hard, a gesture so uncouth that if any dinner guest of his had behaved in this manner, they might have found themselves on the menu for the next gathering. 

He heard the low hum of the showerhead wakening and shuddering once before bursting forth, heard Will draw back the shower curtain. Upon entering the bathroom, he found the pajama pants neatly folded on the shelf beside the sink and Will’s naked profile clearly visible through the thin white curtain.

Shedding his own attire, Hannibal stepped into the shower as Will immediately reached out to him, wet lips pressed to his dry ones.

“Don’t you _know_?” Will asked when they came up for air, sliding his damp fingers up over Hannibal’s shoulder blades, his words spoken against his lover’s mouth, “You are every bit as precious to me as I am to you.”

“How could that be?” Hannibal asked, bereft of understanding, lost in the assumption that he would always be the one to love more, to hurt more in consequence, to break and burn in the name of wanting Will Graham enough to let his prideful mask disintegrate. 

“I don’t know,” Will laughed, “It just _is._ You have to let it be or you’ll never be able to relax.”

Hannibal raked his hands through Will’s hair, then applied shampoo to it, massaging Will’s scalp slowly and thoughtfully. Will closed his eyes and gave in to Hannibal’s care, stepping forward a bit so that their toes touched. It felt exactly as if this was the way it should always be, like the most obvious common sense. Hannibal supposed he had never given much credence to the thought of destiny before knowing Will, but he’d been able to think of little else since then.

“Just think of the irony...you coaching me to relax,” Hannibal sighed, tipping Will’s face forward to thoroughly rinse the soap from his hair, fingers stroking over the damp curls. “How many times have I tried to get you to do the same? And here we are.” 

He wet a cloth and pressed it to Will’s skin, washing him with leisurely attentiveness, over that pretty clavicle and down the places on his chest and belly where scratches and bruises puckered and shone, casting angry marks of red and blossoms of yellowing purple. 

Then of course there was the long smile of Will’s scar from that notorious knife wound. Hannibal closed his eyes, hating the memory. Since that night, he’d been tormented by the way Will had responded to his caressing clasp on his face, the tender and open expectancy in those beautiful blue eyes. Overcome with the bitterness of betrayal, heartbreak and disappointment, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from gutting the man he loved, even when it would have been so easy to drop the knife, forget about hollow, disappointing revenge, and kiss him. 

Hannibal had never felt guilt before that incident, hadn’t grieved since Mischa. The feeling had festered inside him until he’d been forced to conclude that he would have to eat Will to forgive him. However, it turned out that forgiveness was a great deal more complicated and irresistible than that, and his first mistake had been assuming there was a way to be stronger or smarter than love. The dizzying tide of protective instinct crashed over him again, and he didn’t know how to process the feeling: he wanted to go back and protect Will from everything he’d done to him. 

All he knew was he wanted that night in the kitchen back, wanted to take Will into his arms, hug him tight and tell him it would be alright. Then they could still run away together as they wanted, even bring Abigail, have a family, start again. Instead there was the scar between them, a sinister smile to remind Hannibal that his rage could be uncontrollable and he never knew when the next surge would come.

The hot water cascaded down on them and around them, plastering Hannibal’s hair to his forehead, wetting his lips anew as he pressed them to Will’s cheek, his own face bent as if in prayer. As the cloth touched his wounds, Will sucked in a breath, belly squeezing as his cock hardened. He found the sensitive areas on Hannibal’s back from memory, the scars from many years ago as well as the soreness of more recent abrasions. 

“Here we are,” Will whispered, kissing Hannibal as the latter let the washcloth fall to the floor. They held each other tightly, erections sliding together, Will’s ever-curious kisses splitting Hannibal wide open. 

He turned Will around and pinned his hands to the wall, thinking there was just barely enough space for what he had planned, but he was too aroused to resist the temptation.

Will’s knuckles whitened as he pressed them hard into the wall, Hannibal’s mouth lingering hot and deep against his ass. Allowing his kisses to be as sloppy as his emotions, Hannibal spread Will’s cheeks, licking and tongue-fucking his friend, clasping Will’s erection and pumping it until Will’s feet slipped forward and he nearly stumbled.

Hannibal snaked his strong arm around Will’s torso to anchor him, teasing with his cock until the sounds Will made as a result shattered his own patience. He closed his eyes as he slid inside Will, then groaned loudly when Will began pushing back, riding his cock with slow, rapturous strokes. 

In the excitement of the moment, they couldn’t have predicted that they would slip again more awkwardly, then wrongly compensate trying to catch themselves, eventually falling backwards, taking the shower curtain down with them, and landing on the bathroom floor in a tangled heap.

“ _Ow_ ,” Will complained, but he was more worried about Hannibal, who had landed on his back, catching the brunt of the fall. “You okay?” He examined Hannibal’s features until his friend gave him a sly smile, easily assimilating the pain before he neatly batted the shower curtain away.

“That was perhaps an ill-advised endeavor,” Hannibal observed, “But for that I blame you. It must be all that pornography you watch, giving you unrealistic ideas.”

“Me? Hey, fucking in the shower was your idea, sweetheart. How do I know you’re not watching porn yourself, getting all kinds of ridiculous fantasies?” 

“Mmm, no. I prefer literary erotica,” Hannibal claimed haughtily.

“Snob,” Will accused, getting to his feet and extending a hand down to help his lover up.

Hannibal accepted the assist, then gave Will a wicked grin when they were face to face again. “Barbarian.”

“ _Your_ barbarian,” Will corrected him, backing Hannibal against the wall until their moist bodies were pressed flush together. “Don’t forget that.”

“How could I? If you weren’t so offensively adorable, I’d never let you get away with half of the nonsense you do.” Hannibal slung his arms low around Will’s hips, cupping his ass, eyes still sparkling with trouble in mind. 

“Yeah, well, that goes both ways,” Will smirked, leaning in for a kiss just as Hannibal made a sudden and unexpected move, tickling his stomach. “Wait, are you--” Will giggled helplessly as Hannibal tickled him more, all over his belly, then his neck, Will trying to bat him off to no avail. 

“Stop! Cut that out, you can’t tickle me, it’s not--fair…” Laughing his head off, Will finally managed to extricate himself from Hannibal’s attack and went running down the hall, his lover following quickly.

“No!” Will demanded, holding one finger up as Hannibal caught up with him in the bedroom. Mustering as much composure as he could, given that he was standing there naked and dripping wet, not to mention cold, Will added firmly, “No more tickling, or there will be consequences.”

“I’m prepared to deal with that,” Hannibal quipped, grabbing Will and pulling them both down onto the bed, where he hovered with naughty glee above his friend. 

“God, I love your smile,” Will answered, overcome in the moment, his words taking Hannibal by surprise. He reached up and traced Hannibal’s lips, eyes worshipful. 

“I’m not used to smiling so much,” Hannibal admitted thickly, kissing Will’s mouth, then nuzzling into his neck and kissing some more.

Will closed his eyes, lost in the sensation of the kisses, his skin growing hot and sensitive under Hannibal’s insatiable savoring. 

“I want you to get used to it,” he murmured, “you’re beautiful when you smile, not that you aren’t otherwise…” 

Hannibal’s lips trailed down Will’s chest as he looked up at him, again slightly taken aback but maintaining his inimitable cool.

“Oh?”

“Mmm. Don’t you think I found you insanely sexy from the first moment I saw you, heard your voice? And then all your little details, the way you cook, how much you love it, how obsessively nit-picky and meticulous you are in those rituals of yours, the way you take such pride in every aspect of your output, even your hobbies… _oh_ ,” Will broke off sharply as Hannibal bit his upper thigh, taking his cock in hand and stroking with expert pressure. 

“That must have been confusing for you at the time,” Hannibal noted, licking up the length of Will’s cock, swirling his tongue and then sucking his length. Will’s fingers gripped the sheets and his toes dug into them as he cried out in pleasure, hips bucking up to encourage Hannibal to go on...and on and on. 

“Uh...uh-huh,” Will admitted, “but Hannibal...I...oh!” He struggled to speak as Hannibal continued pleasuring him, but this had to be said for his love to be truly understood. “I want your darkness, too, your wildness, as much as you want me to give into mine.”

“Oh?” Hannibal smirked, kneeling and grabbing the lubricant. Soon, Will’s legs were over Hannibal’s shoulders, Hannibal’s thick cock slamming into him again and again, their eyes locked as their ecstatic moans grew louder and more savage.

Afterwards, they lay curled up on their sides, bodies nestled into each other, Hannibal’s breath still hot and halting at Will’s ear, his heart beating hard and fast against Will’s back. 

“You know I won’t be able to follow the rules every time. You know that I’ll defy you, kill whom I please, and then what?” Hannibal asked, his voice deep and raspy, his hold on Will possessive as if he was begging for a free pass, to be able to give full vent to his murderous ways _and_ keep Will in his arms.

“There’ll be times when I’ll be angry, and I’m sure other times that I’ll just give in.”

“But will you deny me this? If I anger you?” Hannibal’s fingers spread over Will’s chest, encompassing his heart before lazily circling a nipple.

“Aren’t there any angry sex scenes in your literary erotica?” Will asked drily. Hannibal loved the way his ever-intellectual tone framed the words in coy amusement.

“You seem awfully calm today, yet so recently the idea of ‘giving into me’ ranked among your worst fears.”

“Well, there was never an escape. That didn’t exist, so why fight it?” Will turned over to face his friend, combing the moist hair back from Hannibal’s brow with tender care.

Hannibal feigned losing a breath. “Oh, my darling. Precious baby.” He cradled Will’s face, then ruffled his hair with a rakish grin, those cutely crooked teeth driving Will crazy yet again. “How romantic.”

Will flopped onto his back and laid his arm across his brow with a short laugh. “I love it when you’re sarcastic. You can’t do anything unless it’s sadistic in execution.”

“Was that a pun?”

“That was several. You’re rubbing off on me.” Will watched Hannibal carefully, realizing once more this would always be his favorite activity. Hannibal lingered over him, then did something new and unexpected: he laid his head on Will’s shoulder and snuggled in close. It was needy, just like his aggression, but in contrast to his usual behavior it admitted weakness. 

“Or you’re rubbing off on me,” Hannibal posited, “I can never tell which it is.”

“Both.” Will hugged Hannibal adoringly, in a measure of reassurance that said _yes. If you hold me like this, I will hold you. I will not turn away from your weakness. Your need for me mirrors and is mine for you._ Out loud, he said, voice shaky but sure against Hannibal’s head, “I only love you more for every one of your vulnerabilities. I want them. They’re part of you, and I. Want. You.”

“Mission accomplished, Will.” Hannibal looked up at him in untainted awe. “You have me.”

Just then, there was a quiet sound from the front door, that little click that told of someone picking the lock. Hannibal rolled his eyes.

“This is why I eat the rude.”

“Ha! That’ll most likely be the Italian police, coming to take us to Mason Verger,” Will remarked, unworried.

They lay there listening to the sounds of intruders creeping into the house as Hannibal asked quietly, “What exactly do you think about Mr. Verger, Will?”

Will quirked a morbid smile. “I think he’s a real asshole.”

“Perfect. Then I think we should stay right where we are and let them take us. This is going to be, as you said, great fun.”


	5. Chapter 5

A week later, Hannibal fidgeted slightly with his knife and fork, hovering the utensils over the mere delicacy of the exquisite vol au vent he’d concocted. Across the table, Will paused, too, giving him a knowing smile.

“What? C’mon, what’s eating you? Pun intended. This, by the way, is absolutely delicious.” He helped himself to a slice of vibrantly white, plump sea scallop, only lightly dressed in a white wine sauce, accompanied by a crust of puff pastry that held a perfect crunch before melting in the mouth.

“It’s sufficient,” Hannibal fussed, “But I can’t help occasionally regretting that we didn’t get to eat Mason or Cordell. A shame not to give two such repulsively vulgar men the final destiny which two pigs so richly deserved. And of course, to have our first experience of thoroughly mutual enjoyment of such cuisine.”

“A shame we didn’t get to eat them, but it does seem like poetic justice that Mason got to eat that eel,” Will reasoned, taking a sip of velvety red wine. 

His eyes traveled over Hannibal’s face as his friend completed his soothing ritual of smelling the wine, swishing it and finally imbibing. So much of Will’s love for Hannibal lived in his quiet adoration of those tiny quirks, the habits that made him so irreplaceably precious, so uniquely and beautifully frustrating.

“Rather poetic to leave Cordell’s face atop Mason’s as well, and no less than he’d earned by his treatment of you,” Hannibal bragged, making Will chuckle as his friend’s trademark ego came back, lifting Hannibal’s mood as it always did.

Whatever irritating anxieties life produced, Hannibal could rely on his own smugness until his last breathing moment, Will thought, as long as that moment wasn’t tainted by any danger or disappointment involving his lover. Will was the only one who could bring down the veil between Hannibal and the exterior world of people, places, and things, but appropriately enough, Hannibal was the only place Will ever wanted to be.

“I did get to have a little bite of Cordell, don’t forget,” said Will, enjoying the hell out of the indignant look he earned from Hannibal.

“There’s no need to brag, Will.”

“I learned from the best,” Will countered, “And that’s not the only thing you’ve taught me.”

Hannibal set down his glass and went to Will, kneeling as his lover looked at him in slight surprise at the sudden change in his mood from petulantly humorous to very seriously romantic. Just imagine, the idea of Hannibal Lecter placing himself voluntarily in such a docile posture. Will’s eyes were bright blue heaven to Hannibal, who licked his lips and culled the words he’d need. He supposed it had something to do with having once hated heaven, seeing it as a false promise from a manipulative God, but how could he go on hating any higher power who had led him to Will?

Taking Will’s hand in his own, Hannibal finally said softly, “You were right. You have changed me. As much as I have changed you.”

The delayed gratification of this admission made the statement no less powerful, and Will felt tears threatening as he gazed at Hannibal with a longing that still felt as fresh as the first time their eyes met.

“There’s something else making you restless since Muskrat Farm,” Will concluded. This time, he used no fancily teasing words to provoke Hannibal’s confession. “Tell me.”

“I appreciate that you hid me here in your house, that you kept Jack at bay, pacifying him with the helpful lie of my escape,” Hannibal began.

“Well, I appreciate you carrying me home, Hannibal. You’re awfully good at that, you know. Finding me in whatever dark corner I’ve burrowed into and making me feel at ease. I just never really believed you’d stay here with me afterwards. I’m glad I was wrong...but did you half-expect I’d turn you in, right up until the moment of crisis?”

“Oh, I never know that from one moment to the next,” Hannibal smiled, eyes twinkling in soft humor as he repeated a phrase he’d used before with Will, on the first night they made love, when their tension teetered far more precariously between love and hate, murder and salvation. 

“I’ve loved our time here together, Will. I’ve even grown to tolerate the dogs, despite Winston’s stubbornly suspicious attitude towards me.”

Will laughed. “Yeah, but can you really blame him?”

Hannibal’s answering smile faded slowly and he admitted, “I don’t want to live with you in hiding, Will. I don’t want us to stay sequestered to the shadows in your safe haven.”

“You want us to leave here,” Will guessed. “Run away together like we always wanted, this time for good. I guess I do see the appeal of living out in the open, crafting some appropriate aliases and eating our way through the vilest criminals we can track.”

“Yes. But it’s more than that, Will.” Hannibal’s grip on Will’s hands tightened along with the stress in his astonishingly sweet brown eyes, the eyes that fell cold and heartless on everyone else but widened like he’d taken a hit of the most rapturous drug when he saw Will. His lips twitched and he pressed them together and gulped, working up his nerve. 

“I want us to run away together for good, and forever. I want to be forever yours in name as well as life...whatever name that is, I want to give and share it with you. For some time now, I’ve cherished the hope you might want that, too.”

Will swallowed back another surge of tremulous vulnerability that made him want to burst into tears. 

“Hannibal, sweetheart, please believe I’m not fucking with you here, I’m not toying with your emotions. But I can’t possibly begin to tell you how much it would mean for me to hear you say the words now.”

Hannibal swept his hand over Will’s cheekbone, then cupped his face. “I want you to be my husband. Marry me, Will.”

Will did cry then, crocodile tears that shook his body as Hannibal enveloped him in his strong embrace, the reassuringly elegant scent of his cologne and the nervous grip of his arms making Will absolutely certain despite any fear fleetingly in charge of his heart that this was real. He wasn’t dreaming; he was living his dream, just as he’d been bold enough to predict.

“Yes,” he said thickly into the crook of Hannibal’s shoulder. 

“Will, if you’d been fucking with me, I would have killed you,” Hannibal rasped, not fully over his agitation about the proposal. 

“No you wouldn’t have.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

They laughed, rocking back and forth in each other’s arms, and then Will said fondly, “There will be arrangements to be made, plenty of them. You do so excel at making arrangements.”

“No one knows it as well as you, baby, but then, no one could know _me_ so well.” Hannibal smiled with only the slightest twinge of self-consciousness in showing his resplendent bliss. “And, I think, we’d best plan for one last dinner party prior to our departure.”

“Before we disappear,” Will replied, brushing Hannibal’s hair back from his brow. “God, how I wanted this. How I wanted you in rebellious, unimaginable disdain of every moral ideal I’d ever held true.”

“For you, Will, I’ll turn my back on my own dedication to solitary, interior seclusion. Since the day of our first encounter, I’ve had the sensation that I’ll never be alone again; it simply no longer existed as an option for either one of us.”

“I will never leave you alone,” Will vowed, and Hannibal leaned up to kiss him, smoothing his hands over his shoulders and gripping his arms. 

“Now, go finish your food before it gets cold,” Will added with affectionate insistence, watching as Hannibal returned to his seat, coyly granting his fiance the obedient gesture, though a playful intent to seductively challenge him clearly lingered in his mischievous smile.

Oh, the mischief they could make together. How the world would be torn to shreds as a result of their reign of glory, and how they’d slow dance naked in the ash and flame and blood, licking each others’ wounds. Never alone again, and honest about it at last, too.

“You know we’re bringing the dogs, right?” Will asked, making them both laugh as Hannibal’s feigned consternation only provoked Will to keep pushing his buttons until they were back in bed, unbuttoning each other completely, all night long.

 

Invitations were duly distributed to past friends and foes, not of course that there was ever much of a distinction between the titles. Will helped Hannibal to spread the lavish burgundy linen tablecloth and to plate the delicate appetizers. The pre-dinner menu ranged from roasted red pepper tapenade with which to top Hannibal’s own homemade bread, to shrimp-stuffed mushrooms, bacon-wrapped dates and those blue cheese and pear tartlets which Will couldn’t help sampling, though the guests hadn’t yet arrived.

He was licking a bit of excess cheese from his thumb when Hannibal came up behind him and grabbed his hips, yanking him flush against his body.

“I’d ask whether you were being naughty on purpose, but with you I think it’s a continually foregone conclusion.” He kissed Will’s neck as Will leaned automatically into his hold, turning his face to claim Hannibal’s lips. 

“You’re well on your way to earning a very good spanking,” Hannibal added, roving his hand slowly over Will’s ass until his lover shivered.

“I hope so.” The doorbell rang and Will gave his fiance a deliberately teasing grin. “To be continued.”

“Will,” Jack said as he entered the house, regarding his friend suspiciously while Will took his coat and led the way to the dining room. “You wanna tell me what this is all about?”

“Spare me the consternation, Jack, you knew this day was coming.” Will leaned on a chair back and added acerbically, “Relax. I know how you love a good meal with friends.”

“Some friends make better enemies,” Jack replied, not bothering to flinch or even shift his eyes from his best profiler to the serial killer who’d just casually strolled into the room. “Hannibal. I wish I could say this came as a surprise.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Jack, I’m sure we can provide you with a surprise or two before the evening is over,” Hannibal answered with the utmost cordiality. He lifted two bottles of wine and asked, “Red, or white?”

“He’s so annoyed I want to have both on offer,” Will explained, “Because white and red don’t each pair perfectly with every item on his obsessively plotted out menu, but I think it’s polite to let each guest decide which they’d prefer.”

“You’re insufferably, wilfully disrespectful of basic epicurean guidelines, Will, but it’s these small yet important considerations that separate man from beast.” Hannibal batted his eyelashes as flirtatiously at his fiance as if they were alone in the room, and Jack bristled, patience waning.

“I think you love my little defiances,” Will retorted with a slyly sexy smile.

“Whatever this is about, will you two please just put your damned cards on the table? It must be obvious to you how little I want to be here, how disappointed I am in you, Will.” Jack frowned at the elaborate spread of food on the table as if the concept of actually celebrating Will’s descent into demonic abandon offended him deeply.

But Jack’s paternal disapproval didn’t have the impact on Will that it once did. Where once his supervisor had seemed to him a benevolent, if conflicted and sometimes even damaging influence, Will saw now that it wasn’t up to Jack or anyone else to tell him who to be.

“Jack, please, wait for the other guests,” Hannibal clucked. “You do have a borderline inappropriate habit of showing up early. Now, red, or white?”

Jack rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine, fine, red.”

“A wise choice,” Hannibal smiled, pouring out the bordeaux and passing the glass politely to the same man he’d brutally attacked and tried to kill on two separate, quite memorable occasions. Neither of those encounters had anything to do with Hannibal’s cheerful respect for Jack Crawford, and in fact he failed to see the need for any such artificial divides to be drawn between comrade and nemesis.

Friend and foe, it was all the same, really, just as man was at his most undeniable core, a beast. And beasts never held themselves back from their appetites, never understood a rule or code compelling enough to inspire such dreadfully humane self-denial.

Another ring of Will’s doorbell sent him to fetch Alana, then within a few minutes’ time they were joined by Freddie Lounds and Frederick Chilton. Bedelia had apparently disappeared once she was released by the Italian police, but Hannibal and Will looked forward to seeing her again another time soon enough. Every successive guest joined in the strained small talk and careful resentment which characterized their immediate certainty that this was intended to be all of their last suppers, except of course for Freddie, who remained blithely unbothered by anything except her own favorite sort of meal: that elusive perfect scoop.

“There’s no pink wine?” she asked as Hannibal shot her a deadly glance, causing her to make do with the white, helping herself to a stuffed mushroom that made her blue eyes go huge. “Wow, that’s _so_ good. I’m pretty sure you tricked us into coming here just to kill us, but damn.”

“Five star cuisine as always, but I’ll restrain my appetite since it’s currently trumped by my survival instincts,” Chilton put in, tugging at his collar as if it was suddenly a little too tight.

“None of us were really tricked,” Alana said, crossing her arms and popping a hip, red lips pursing. “We knew what a dinner party invitation from Will Graham was code for. Will’s idea of a fancy meal is a trip to Longhorn Steakhouse. And you can’t seriously expect me to lay a finger on any of this food. Just, out with it, you two, what do you want? To call a truce, try and evoke some impossible approval from us, to spray the rug with our blood?”

“Honestly, it would be an improvement,” Hannibal quipped, and Will groaned.

“I’m so sorry my decorative choices don’t live up to your refined expectations, sweetheart,” he winked as Hannibal chortled.

Will pulled out Alana’s chair for her with gentlemanly aplomb. “He secretly lives for my idiosyncrasies. Come on, Alana, all of you, just stop questioning everything and sit down, eat, let’s say a proper goodbye.”

“Sweetheart?” Jack cringed, hesitating before taking a piece of bread and spreading the tanapede across its airy surface. 

“Obviously,” Alana observed irritably, adjusting her cane where it rested snugly on the table, as if she was expecting to need it soon. “They’ve probably been sleeping together since Florence.”

“Who could help choking on the unresolved sexual tension everytime these two were in a room together?” Chilton added. “They make a nauseatingly perfect couple. I’m almost jealous. A soulmate is a terribly hard thing to find.”

“Will, there’s still time for you to put a stop to this insanity,” Jack encouraged. “Walk away, let me take Hannibal in and you can still have a life.”

“Don’t stop the insanity now, this is just getting good,” Freddie enthused, downing the rest of her glass of wine. “Of course, I’ll want exclusive rights to the Murder Husbands biography. The film rights are going to earn me a vacation home in the Maldives.”

“By any rational standard of fairness, _I_ should be the one to write their story,” Chilton argued. “I was Will’s therapist--”

“And you never saw all the way through his facade,” Freddie smirked. “Jack and Alana just didn’t _want_ to see it.”

“Will’s facade was better constructed than most because he built it to hide his true nature from himself,” Alana explained flintily. 

“No amount of love should blind you to the responsibility you have to protect this man’s future victims,” said Jack, but Will shook his head.

“ _Our_ future victims, but don’t worry, Jack. We’ll make our meals from the sorts of people you would want dead anyway.” 

“You can’t control him,” Jack insisted. 

“No, but he knows I’d do anything for him,” Hannibal smoothly explained. “Leave here today without any plan to retaliate against our happiness and we won’t call on you uninvited. I’m dreadfully sorry to break my promise to you, Alana, but as I said, for Will I can at least _try_ to do anything. He wanted to give you all a fair chance at survival despite your damning knowledge of us.”

“You never break your promises,” Alana scowled. “You expect me to believe love has made you a new man filled with redemptively altruistic intentions?”

“Hasn’t your love for Margot changed you, Alana? It would be such a shame to ruin your own planned nuptials and future baby joy over anything so flimsy as the damp bandages covering old and deep wounds.” Hannibal finished serving the wine and took his seat, spreading his napkin over his lap.

“Would you really do anything for me?” Will asked, glancing with interminable curiosity at Hannibal.

“I’ve just said so, Will. When have I given you reason to doubt my veracity? Anytime I deceived you in the past, I was merely helping you tie on the blindfold you wanted to wear so you didn’t have to face any hard truths. Dr. Bloom has understood you quite well. Her suppositions are limited, but incisive.”

Chilton glared at Freddie, whose eyes were darting back and forth between Will and Hannibal like she was watching her favorite soap opera. In her lap, she wielded her phone, recording all of this fabulous conversation, and her hosts were well-aware of this rude behavior.

“She’s also right about my love of a good steak dinner. Some night, can we just eschew all of this fanciful rigmarole and have a meal of meat and potatoes wearing jeans and drinking beer?” Will’s smile deepened as Hannibal’s dislike of the request gave him pause.

“I suppose I could make you a filet mignon and garlic smashed red potatoes with haricots verts and shallots,” Hannibal allowed, “And as Alana can attest, I make a hell of a good beer, perhaps most of all because of the special ingredients involved. But I don’t think I even own a pair of _jeans._ ”

“Oh my God,” Will laughed, “The look of abject hatred on your face when you were forced to say the word ‘jeans’!”

“I don’t entirely despise them. I certainly like the look of them on you,” Hannibal smirked.

“Gentleman, this is no laughing matter,” Jack said gravely.

“Speak for yourself,” Will countered. “Oh, and something I’ve been wondering, Jack, just how many officers do you have outside my house right now?”

“A sufficient number,” Jack replied severely, “But obviously I’m hoping I won’t need them. I’m _hoping_ you’ll come to your senses, do the right thing, and hand Hannibal over to us. Just step back, Will. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“I'm no longer satisfied with passivity, Jack. The way this is going, I'd say it's a good thing I boarded the dogs. I love the trees around here, don’t you?” Will observed lightly. “Any of the taller ones would also make an ideal vantage point for a sniper.”

“Did you get a chance to meet Chiyoh before leaving Florence?” Hannibal added, taking a self-satisfied sip of wine.

Jack’s eyes widened in panic, but Will put up a hand to calm him.

“Don’t worry, Jack, she’s only using tranquilizer darts, but she’ll have the matter well in hand by now. All we’re asking is that everyone here walks out of this house with no further intention of pursuing us. In return, we will neither eat you, nor deny you the occasional favor should you have need of our particular skill sets in the future.”

“You sound like _him_ , you know,” Jack fumed, fisting his hands on the tabletop as his eyes flashed.

“Or does Hannibal sound like Will?” Alana contributed as her brow crinkled. “They’re so synced by now that I’m never entirely certain we’re dealing with two separate people.”

“What do you say, Jack?” Will inquired, “Is it a deal?”

Jack’s nostrils flared and he was fast when he reached for his gun, but not fast enough. Will sighed disappointedly and grabbed the tranquilizer gun he’d taped to the bottom of the table, shooting Jack in the shoulder.

“There’s no need to be an asshole about it, Jack,” Will remarked as his boss’ head tilted to one side, his accusatory, frightened eyes gradually closing, his body going from sluggish to slack.

“Fine, I’ll co-write the biography with you and we’ll split the rights,” Chilton said to Freddie. “Sixty-forty.”

Freddie snorted. “Seventy-thirty, with me retaining the lion’s share, and that’s my final offer.”

They shook on it, and then Alana said flatly, “Obviously, I would prefer to live on to fight another day. I can’t promise I won’t try and have you two apprehended, but you know that already because you know me. I think your offer sucks, as a matter of fact. There’s something about it that tastes as artificial as the affection you once claimed to feel for me, Hannibal. At least Will was genuine, but you’ve warped his vulnerabilities to your own purpose.” 

“You set me free at Muskrat Farm because you knew I was uniquely equipped to keep him safe,” Hannibal argued with a more steely calm. “Your opinion on my relationship with Will has a nasty habit of shifting to suit whatever happens to be convenient to you on any given day, Alana.”

Alana stood and retrieved her cane. “I’m leaving and I’m taking Jack with me. I’m assuming you two are ready to go as well?”

Freddie and Chilton exchanged analytical glances. “It does seem like a good natural transitioning point,” Chilton acknowledged. “I’ve got a feeling that even if we all rushed our hosts, they’d still be able to take us down.”

“I have mace,” Freddie said, tapping her fingers on the table. “Why’d you let me keep it? And let Jack keep his gun?”

“In the event of a skirmish, one does like to leave a few challenges in place. Otherwise the whole affair becomes so frightfully dull,” Hannibal maintained. He looked quizzically to Will, whose jaw was tightening, and asked casually, “What do you think? Alana and Jack have blatantly refused our truce offering, but technically, the other two have been amenable. Should we dismiss them now?”

“And have them miss out on the main course?” Will answered with a darkening smile. “It seems like such a shame. Shall I do the honors?”

“Of course,” Hannibal approved proudly, “It’s your turn.”

As Freddie’s hand shot into her handbag for her mace, Alana’s eyes charted the smartest path to escape the house, but then her gaze returned to Jack, unconscious and helpless. She looked like a trapped animal, Will thought as he shut the lights off and commenced the proper goodbye.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small notification that there is a bit of choking in this chapter.

“Hannibal, will you please stop buzzing around the caterers like an especially distrustful hornet and help me with this?”

Momentarily, Hannibal was torn between his fiance’s plea and the fact that the kitchen counter was covered with appetizers in progress which needed his supervision lest the cocktail hour devolve into a culinary disaster.

But there Will stood in his gorgeously fitted dark blue suit, crabbily holding out the two ends of his white necktie, brimming over with self-conscious shyness and prideful frustration.

How could Hannibal ever resist such a sight?

With a lovingly appeasing smile, he forgot everything else for the moment and lifted Will’s shirt collar, then expertly knotted the tie and tucked the end into Will’s waistcoat. 

“It’s bad luck for the groom to see the groom before the ceremony,” Hannibal chided teasingly as his eyes glittered with excited anticipation.

“I don’t believe in bad luck anymore,” Will countered, his own gaze eagerly following his love’s confident maneuvering of his apparel. He was _thoroughly_ distracted by the devoted possessiveness in Hannibal’s treatment of him. “Or more accurately, I can’t fear it. Were it not for exceptionally bad luck, we never might have met.”

Hannibal gave a short, thoughtful nod, tugging Will’s lapels as if merely straightening his jacket. Will easily read the sensual implication of Hannibal’s know-it-all, bossy, savoring touch and let out a heady sigh.

Pursing his lips, Hannibal shot him an accusing, smoldering stare. “You truly expect me to wait until our wedding night to fuck you if you are going to make that noise and look at me that way?”

“This is just what my face, my tongue and my breath do when I get close to you,” Will defended, enjoying the way their sexy murmurs were cloaked by the busy, loud chattering of the caterers around them, the clinking of plates and pans. “It’s not my fault.”

“And furthermore, do you honestly expect me to believe you don’t know how to tie a tie, Will?”

“No, I just like the way you tie me better than how I tie myself.” 

“As the broken headboard can attest.”

“As the broken bedframe can also attest,” Will put in playfully. He lavished his gaze over his fiance’s matching blue suit, unbuttoning it slowly with his eyes.

“We need a new bed,” Hannibal observed, so distracted by recent memories of their sex that he failed to lash out when the caterers put the finishing touches to the crudute platter without following his preordained color-coded arrangement.

“This is all very thoughtful.” Will nodded to the food spread, where one caterer leaned over a prosciutto rose, carefully securing the last petal fold, unaware that the flesh he handled was a far cry from Italian ham, anymore than the meat threaded onto the nearby Moroccan skewers was lamb. 

“You remembered all my favorites,” Will grinned, popping an olive in his mouth from the antipasto platter, Hannibal’s hilarious look of consternation making it difficult to chew.

“I simply recalled which items you’ve been most liable to sample before doing so was remotely permissible. It was an easy menu; the theme is ‘barbarian.’” 

As if he feared that Will would continue sabotaging the elegant plating with his incessant snacking, Hannibal steered him away and they strolled out onto the sun-warmed veranda of their white stone house high up above the vivid blue ocean, a place in Santorini, Greece which had come to be their special safe haven, a place to start anew. For now.

“The good police lieutenant may not have felt it was an easy menu,” Will chuckled. 

He sat on the stone railing over the sharp rocks and waves which cut and splashed up at them like an open invitation he didn’t fear any more than bad luck. Hannibal smiled at his usual daredevil antics, the way Will poised himself mere inches from an easy murder just to tempt him to do something he never would, to fan the flame of delectably violent instinct which always hummed threateningly between them. But Hannibal couldn’t push Will off of that balcony unless he plummeted over the edge along with him, and for now he was quite happy staying right where they were.

“He was not a ‘good’ lieutenant, as you know all too well, since that is why you were so eager to tear him limb from limb, my love. All things considered, he received a legacy he didn’t deserve in becoming quite so savory and elegant a feast.”

“Skewered to death and skewered to eat,” Will noted wryly, crooking a knee and sliding his hand into his jacket pocket, fiddling with the folded paper inside. 

“You do insist on being so fastidious in selecting our victims. I suppose that’s why you allowed Jack and Alana to escape us.”

“ _If_ I helped them, it was only because I thought they could be useful or amusing in the future...either for their need of our skills or if they should come hunting for us in the night.”

“I have to admit those would be excessively diverting scenarios,” Hannibal allowed, standing before Will and reaching out to shift his fiance’s posture so that he could stand between Will’s legs, smoothing out the jacket over his shoulders. “And yet, why do I also suspect there are soft spots in your heart still for the two of them?”

“I guess you’ll never know,” Will smirked. “I think you enjoy the suspicion. It keeps the thrill alive.”

“All you have to do is breathe to keep the thrill alive for me, Will. But I confess I do highly enjoy your little games. All I want to do is play with you, and you know it. You take advantage of my leniency towards your wayward ways as I take advantage of the same inclination in you.”

“We’re a match made in heaven. Or hell.”

“I can’t tell the difference between the two anymore. You’ve taught me to unlearn every bitter prejudice I’ve held against the concept of happiness. And if you can’t tell by now how astonishingly beautiful I think you look today, please know I plan to show you in no uncertain terms as soon as our guests depart.”

“I’m not sure I can wait that long,” Will flirted, the humorous seduction in his big blue eyes shifting to deeply aroused submission as Hannibal grasped the back of his head, digging his fingers hungrily into Will’s curls and tugging hard.

“Good.” Hannibal’s smile was devastatingly serious, his eyes watering over they traveled from the sky to the sea and then all over Will, ending with his unforgettably sweet and dangerous eyes. “You understand, there is the bewitching cerulean tint of that perfect sky above us on our wedding day, there is the frothy, roiling threat of the azure waves and their endlessly deep pull, and then there is the blue I see in _you_ , Will. The excruciating, unstable, sensitive but terrifyingly immense, powerful vulnerability you have shown me and exuded over me from the first time our eyes met. That is the only blue I need. You’ve colored my world.”

“You are my world,” Will smiled tremulously, his body responding with even greater need as Hannibal’s hold on him tightened, both in his hair and at his back, grabbing onto that dapper jacket roughly enough to wrinkle it, not caring. And then their lips met hotly over and over, crashing like the waves below, equally as relentless, perilous, and inevitable.

 

Will took several deep breaths in through his nose and then let them out through his mouth, trying to practice that mindfulness ritual which had absolutely never worked for him in the past despite the numerous times people had recommended it as an anxiety fix. As he stood in the beautiful grassy grounds outside the humble white stone chapel, it seemed that every color here was hyper-rich and blindingly mesmerizing, but that was perhaps to be expected here in Santorini. His almost unbearable excitement only slightly exaggerated the brilliant shades defining this moment when his heart sat throbbing in this throat, squeezing around the thought, _please let this be real._

Stage fright aside, there was something so welcoming in the smiles on the faces of the guests in their neat rows of white chairs, the quirkily endearing townsfolk who had helped fill his new life here with amusement and fun. And there was Chiyoh, smiling steadily and offering her arm to guide him down the aisle. He looked at her stunningly serene face and thought even she could not quite resist the contagious happiness of this occasion. 

“You’re looking lovely, Chiyoh. And unusually cheerful. No hauntingly foreboding words of warning, no last minute attempts to save Hannibal from any potential future danger I may pose him?” He squinted at her voluminous bouquet of pale peach and blue roses. “Is there a knife in there somewhere? A beretta?” 

She gave a soft, elegant laugh, smoothing back a stray lock of raven hair from her updo, the sun casting brilliant rays upon her dress with its blush-peach layers of lace and chiffon. Will didn’t think he’d ever seen her teeth before. 

“I like to think I helped you learn your lesson when I pushed you off that train,” Chiyoh clarified proudly. 

“Hmm. Probably. And how about that kiss, what was that supposed to teach me?” He raised his eyebrows, smirking. 

“Nothing. That was just for fun. And because you are cute. But you are most certainly taken, and I knew it then, too.” 

“I just didn’t want to admit who had my heart,” Will admitted. “Thank you, I guess, for the role you played in making me wake up to myself.” 

She squared her shoulders and faced front, looking up the aisle. As usual, Chiyoh personified an admirable ideal of dignity, regal as much as her surrogate big brother could ever be. “The sort of joy you’ve both found here has a saturating influence, brightening everything you touch and taste and see, everyone around you. It is enough to make me feel there may be some bliss out there for me to find, for myself. To begin living for myself.” 

“You deserve it,” Will answered with certainty, straightening his posture and shifting to fully face the path between the chairs which led to a fate he’d much rather run to, without the audience, yet he found it in him when the music began to pace himself and take the journey step by step, Chiyoh’s fingers light but supportive in the crook of his arm. 

When his eyes met Hannibal’s, the formality of the moment and the fever pitch of his nerves seemed to explode into nothingness. He could rest there in Hannibal’s beckoning, awestruck, calmly sure gaze. Here was home. 

“I’m sorry it couldn’t be the Norman Chapel,” Will murmured once Chiyoh had stepped to the side and he’d faced Hannibal to join their hands. 

“This is much better,” Hannibal winked. 

The priest spoke with thankfully brief eloquence on the holiness of this union, as they’d been lucky enough to land in a town where the local church was free from absurd prejudices. This meant that everyone got to live, for now of course, and they could have a lovely ceremony including the references to God’s love which carried heavy meaning for Hannibal. He might always wrestle with his relationship to his Creator, but he wanted Him there all the same, even if he himself did not fully understand why. Perhaps to say “thank you” for sending him Will, perhaps to make a peace offering of a sort to beg that he got to keep this. 

“And now, the grooms have written their own vows,” said the kindly old priest in slightly broken English, causing Will’s anxiety to return. 

He wiped his sweating palms off on his jacket as his adorable nervousness only made Hannibal’s words come out more emphatically. Although they called each other by their aliases, they both heard their real names, clear as day, ringing like bells across the resplendent halls of their conjoined memory palace. 

“The first day I met you, Will, you didn’t want to see me, nor let me see you. You said I wouldn’t like you when you were psychoanalyzed, but little did you know I would come to love you completely, inside out and in every quality you thought made you so unapproachable.” Hannibal held Will’s hands, speaking his vows from memory and stroking Will’s palm slowly, soothingly with his thumbs. “Thank you for letting me in. I promise to spend the rest of my life finding ways to thank you, ways to make you happy. I love you, Will.” 

Copious tears and nose-blowings were audible in the congregation, but Will only saw Hannibal’s purely open expression, only felt the strength of his hands and the incomprehensible safety of their mad love. 

Taking out his folded paper, Will wiped tears from his own cheek and stumbled to begin his vows. 

“Uhm….well, everyone here knows I’m not a huge fan of attention or public speaking.” Everyone laughed and he relaxed slightly, looking back into Hannibal’s eyes, his throat bobbing, his one free hand resting in his love’s hold, comforted by the squeeze of Hannibal’s fingers. Then he glanced down at the paper thinking none of the words there really came close to expressing his feelings, and it would be better to just wing it. He put the pre-written vows away, just one more little surprise to keep his very-soon-to-be husband besotted. 

'I do love nothing in the world so well as you -- is not that strange?’” Will quoted. “Shakespeare said that, and I’ve been thinking of those words since that day we met, when you were so charmingly, irresistibly _nosy_ , of course making me prickly and defensive. And now I think that falling in love with you was strange to me because it was so completely unfamiliar. To be seen, appreciated, wanted like that and to feel an equal pull to you, I just...had assumed that I wouldn’t get to ever have that. Yes, from the start, I warned you that I was lost inside myself, but you just kept determinedly reminding me that out of everyone on this planet, you were the only one with the key to open me up, and you would wait for me. Thank _you_ for showing me a love I never dreamed was possible, thank you for teaching me _so_ much about the etymology of food terms--” 

More laughter, as Hannibal’s own chuckle was balanced by his tears and that rare shyness in his smile. 

"I’ve always loved you, Hannibal, and I’ve always been yours. I promise that I always will be. I want to make you the happiest man alive.” He stepped forward, clasping Hannibal’s face, caressing away his tears. “Not only because it’s what you’ve given me, but because you deserve it.” 

“Do you truly think I deserve you?” Hannibal asked as he and Will slow danced at the reception. The lights in the large event tent were rosy and romantic, Will following Hannibal’s firm but nervous lead as surely as ever. 

Will leaned back to look at his husband in amused disbelief. “Are you saying you don’t? I thought your entire complaint this whole time has been ‘wake up and realize we’re meant to be together, Will.’ Well, I told you, sweetheart, I woke up.” 

“Even so, I’ve hurt you,” Hannibal replied, a waver of sadness in his voice. “More times than I can count. Not always because you hurt me first. And I’ve always been left pained as a result, but selfishly resolute in my intention. Do I adore you, will I cherish you always, will I always be the one waiting for you to come home to my arms? Yes. But do I deserve it? I’m not so sure.” 

Will let the question sit there in the air between them for a moment, clasping Hannibal’s hand and turning to the music with a fluidly happy movement, not letting himself think about the guests watching them or anything but this moment of pure, hard-earned contentment with his love. 

“Hmm. I notice that you haven’t suggested we call upon Bedelia,” Will said curiously. 

“Not in quite some time. To be honest, I had forgotten about her entirely, until you mentioned her just now.” 

“It’s because you knew I was insanely jealous about her. You knew that I feared if you killed her, the act would be sexual, and when you ate her, that would be sexual too, because some part of you still craved her in that way, still wanted the chance to savor her.” Will spoke lightly, but the words had a cutting truth to them that made his grip on Hannibal’s hand and waist tighten. 

“I wanted you to know that I _don’t_ crave her or care in the least for the possibility of killing and eating her anymore. Back when that option was so interesting to me, it was before I knew you, and I was a hollow ghost wandering listlessly through this life, taking what I wanted though it never brought me satisfaction or peace. How could I have any room in my heart for such trivial matters when you are right here in front of me? I don’t want you to ever question my devotion, Will.” 

“Did you feel jealousy when I let Alana go?” Will cleared his throat and amended himself teasingly. “ _If_ I let her go. Did you think some part of me still craved _her_?” 

__

__

“No,” Hannibal answered, seeing the incredulity in Will’s sly smile and caving. “That is, I was jealous, but I recognized the jealousy as unimportant, most likely unfounded. I moved on. If I could have you, nothing else bothered me much. And there is nothing else I need other than the life we've built, the world we share.” 

Will stopped dancing and pulled Hannibal scandalously close, considering the public and formal setting, and then he leaned into his husband’s ear and whispered wickedly, “Show me.” 

“I used to practice your name so I could say it to your face,” Will murmured, splaying his palms out flat on the dining room table as Hannibal’s rough, deliberate hands undid both of their trousers, waiting a few moments to go further, drawing out Will’s anticipation. "Do you think I've ever done that with anyone else, ever felt like that, so completely, passionately, awkwardly and wretchedly enamored?" 

Hannibal kissed Will’s neck, tickling his skin with his warm breath and the sweetly bitter tang of homemade summer wine. “How did you do it? And when?” 

“When I got dressed in the morning, in front of the mirror.” Will paused, gasping as Hannibal nipped his neck, licked and then bit harder, reaching around to clasp Will’s erection and stroke it slowly, grinding his own to his husband’s pert and ready behind. 

“And?” Hannibal bent down and spread Will’s ass, licking his hole once and then spanking both cheeks, infatuated as ever with the sight of Will’s beauty and exquisitely lovely submission. 

“Fuck,” Will grunted, fingers curling on the table-top as his eyes rolled up slightly. “And I’d repeat it when I got in the car. ‘Hannibal. Hannibal.’ Wondering how you’d look at me when I said it. Wondering if you were ever going to make a move, or if I could stand it if you did. Wondering if I loved you or hated you or both. I whispered it once or twice more when I was walking to your door, like somehow it would get me ready, but nothing could ever prepare me for you, for what you do to me. Hannibal.” 

Hannibal smiled, pleased and proud of his shy lover’s cute flusters. He licked in a slowly roving circle around Will’s hole and darted his tongue in again before muttering, “Say it again for me now.” 

Will moaned as Hannibal’s warm, wet, relentless tongue fucked him with languorous attention, as his husband’s big, strong hands curved around his ass, squeezing and smacking. 

_“Hannibal!_ ” he cried helplessly, spreading his legs further, craving so much more of him. “Hannibal,” he added in a softly broken plea. 

"Yes,” came the firm but excited reply as Hannibal slicked his cock between Will’s cheeks, then pressed it inside, losing his fragile composure to an exulted, aching groan. “My Will.” 

“Yes,” Will assured him breathlessly, looking back at his husband as he fucked him slowly, one hand on Will’s hip and the other clutching his shirt, using it to pull Will’s body back as he wanted. 

“My tie,” Will begged euphorically, and Hannibal let go of the shirt and made sure Will’s tie was snugly in place around his neck. 

Then he took hold of the tie, pulling in time with his deep, powerful thrusts, sighing again at the feel of Will’s hot tightness and the sound of his love’s ecstatic cries growing hoarse. 

Careful to tug firmly, but not so much as to cut off Will’s breathing, Hannibal went on and on, slamming into his husband for all he was worth, claiming him and swearing just as much as with any vow he’d spoken today that he belonged to Will, too, wholly and forever. 

Will came with a sharp, shocked moan, startled at the intensity of the orgasm as he stared back at Hannibal in utter, open-hearted fascination. The sight of Will’s pleasure urged his husband on until Hannibal burst inside him and thrust hard several more times, the sound of their bodies slapping together causing another wave of rapturous arousal to pour over Will. 

“Did that show you sufficiently, baby?” Hannibal inquired with his usual politeness, except that he was breathing raggedly, his hair askew and his face flushed from exertion and delight. 

“Not even close,” Will grinned. “But lucky for you, we’ve got the rest of our lives for you to keep showing me.” 

Hannibal stood and pulled Will’s face to his chest, hugging him close and taking long, steadying breaths, taking his strength from his husband’s presence. “I’ll never, ever stop, Will. Because I know just how to take care of you. And it’s what you deserve.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of the story is taken from the song "New Constellations" by Ryn Weaver.
> 
> I also slightly paraphrased a quote from Bic Runga's song "Sway" in this chapter, when Will talked about practicing Hannibal's name. <3
> 
> Thanks to all my wonderful readers, hope you liked the ending!


End file.
